A Flash of Red
by That'sCaptainToYou
Summary: This is a good land to die for.
1. Chapter 1

**A Flash of Red**

Summary/AN: Chapter 1… Yay! This is my first fan fiction so please **don't** go easy on me! I want lots of constructive criticism! (Ahem… please note the word _constructive_) Thank you so much for reading, it means more then you could possibly know. I apologize for any grammar mistakes. I'm not perfect. Tell me and I'll hopefully fix it. I know this one is really short... sorry... Chapter 2 is longer, I swear! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own the the Lord of the Rings… After all, I was about -44 at the time, if my mental math is correct. (it probably isn't…) I own the Flash... :)

**Chapter 1**

Legend speaks of many strange things – elf magic, darkness, and a manner strange creatures, to name a few. The myth of the Flash of Red has reached the ear of many an elf, man, and dwarf. Legend has it when a battle goes ill and there are many noble soldiers taking a sword for their country, a red blur speeds across the battleground, leaving fallen enemies in its wake and avenging the side that was defending the good in the world. The red streak shines like a dark flame, incinerating the enemy and inspiring a spark of hope in brave soldier's hearts.

From the time it first appeared, the Flash was considered to be an old wives tale, one that people of all races scoffed at. People had to see it to believe it but soon it occurred so often that it was a common topic of conversation, mainly among men and dwarves.

Some people attempted to ensnare the Flash on the battlefield, but it was far too sly to fall for a trap. In fact, it seemed to only dodge them at the last minute in an almost teasing way until people, frustrated with their lack of success, finally gave in.

As soon as its task on the field of battle is finished, the Flash seems to vanish in the single blink of an eye.

Those select few who do know the secret of the Flash keep quiet, and rightly so. The majority of Middle Earth might just die of shock if they knew.

Because the Flash of Red is far more than an inhuman whirlwind come to save the day.

It is much, much more.


	2. Chapter 2

**A Flash of Red**

Author's Note:

Chapter 2 is here! Yay me! Once again, I don't own Lord of the Rings because I am not as much of a genius as J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own "the figure". Hope you enjoy! Please review!

**Chapter 2**

A group of seven elves mounted on elegant white horses slowly made their way through the trees, unaware of a hooded figure watching them from the branches of a tall oak. The figure had been tracking a group of orcs, about four score perhaps, and had circled in front of them, preparing to ambush them. But while it was waiting in the trees, a group of elves passed by. Their numbers were few, too few, it worried, to take on the orcs. So for several hours, it had followed them, flitting through the trees, keeping a watchful eye and ear out for the orcs.

For the past seven hours, the elves were completely oblivious to the fact that they were not alone.

Something about the trail the elves travelled made them troubled. Uneasiness had been gnawing at Legolas' stomach since morning. The trees were quiet. Normally they whispered to him, calling his name, but today they spoke little.

Throughout the day, Legolas' horse had become restless and anxious, prancing and snorting, the whites of his eyes showing. He had done his best to soothe the stallion, but to no avail. What happened next took the elf completely by surprise.

The horse let out a piercing whinny and reared up on his hind legs as a crude arrow skimmed his hindquarters. Legolas leaped off and sent his horse towards Rivendell with a slap to its rump while the other elves followed suit.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins as Legolas fired his first arrow into an oncoming orc's eye; heedless to the fact that a hidden figure was readying their bow. The Mirkwood elf sent countless arrows into the pack of orcs while his companions took up swords against the enemy.

The figure decided to remain in the trees rather than fight on the ground. Elves senses are sharp, and they could see who it was in a smaller area if it wasn't careful.

Halfway through the battle, Legolas looked over the bodies and realized something strange. There were far to many fallen orcs killed by arrows for a single archer. He stopped for a moment, frowning. In the time he stood still, an orc took the opportunity to rush towards him, sword ready to bring down a fatal blow.

Legolas turned in time to see a red fletched arrow flying from the trees pierce the creature's throat. He glanced up at the sky, confused, before turning back to the fight.

It was not long before the rest of the orcs lay on the forest floor. Legolas went around retrieving his arrows from dead bodies when he found a dead orc with the same arrow that had saved him skewered through its throat. Curious, he took it and placed it in his quiver. Before long, he and his companions were on their way.

The figure waited until the group had long gone before leaping down from the tree and pushing down her hood, revealing a female elf. She made her way through the carnage, collecting her arrows from dead bodies. It was not long before she realized one was missing.

"Damn you, elf." She muttered, remembering seeing the archer take an arrow that did not match his.

Sighing, she replaced her hood and continued her journey alone.

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><p>Review? Please?<p>

3


	3. Chapter 3

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 3**

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><p>The day was young when the elleth reached the city of Ímladris. She ascended the familiar steps to the hall of Lord Elrond, her hood shielding her face and slipping through the halls like a shadow.<p>

She remembered this place so well; after all, she had spent several years here. This was the place she perfected arrowmaking and where she first learned the basics of the art of healing. But more importantly, this was where she made her longest-lasting and probably closest friend.

The halls were unusually quiet, Runíla noticed, as she glanced around curiously before kneeling and tapping individual floor tiles with her fingers. She paused and slowly pried one of the tiles up, removing a simple wooden box. She placed the top on the ground and unwrapped a fresh blueberry tart, still steaming. Sinking her teeth into the flaky pastry, she almost whimpered in delight, before popping the rest in her mouth. Chewing and swallowing, she sighed and placed the box back underneath the floor tile, brushing crumbs off her hands as she rose.

"Looking for something?" Came a familiar voice from behind her. She whirled around and was greeted by a tired looking Lord Elrond. Relieved, she smiled.

"We bake new ones each day and place them in all of your hiding spots," He gestured to the tile, "just to be prepared if you do show up unexpectedly. You always were unusually fond of them. We missed you." He smiled, opening his arms, and she met his embrace stiffly.

"It has been too long, Elrond." She sighed. Her arms barely touched him, but he knew she meant no disrespect. She cared for him greatly, but could not help but be taken aback at physical contact.

"That, I'm afraid, is your fault. You were supposed to visit one hundred twenty years ago." He replied, a smile evident in his voice. Elrond stepped back and looked her up and down. "My, you look like you haven't bathed in four years!"

Runíla toyed with the ends of her tattered cloak. "I believe its been five, actually."

Lord Elrond pulled a face that made the elleth grin before taking her arm and leading her through the halls.

"That, unfortunately, will have to wait." He sighed, pulling Runíla down an unfamiliar hall, glancing around and lowering his voice. "We are holding a council today. It is of the utmost importance. I hope you will join us. Guests from all across Middle Earth are attending, and I believe your insight will be very useful."

Runíla nodded, an odd feeling beginning to eat away at her stomach. She had a sneaking suspicion towards what the council was about, but she did not dare speak of such things in an area this vulnerable.

They paused at a door that seemed to almost blend into the wall, obviously to keep whatever lay beyond private.

"If something does arise, try to keep your temper under control, Runíla." Elrond recommended sternly, to which Runíla replied with a sheepish smile.

"I'll do my best."

Runíla pulled up her hood to shield her face as Elrond turned the handle of the door.

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><p>AN: Sorry guys. I updated this because (as if going through things I wrote ages ago was not cringe-inducing enough) I discovered something that I <em>really<em> didn't like. It was eating away at me and I finally decided to change it. I apologize if any of you thought it was an update.

Gosh this was short. What was I thinking?

Adios.


	4. Chapter 4

Bonjour!

This chapter took me FOREVER to write. I originally had it combined with Chapter 3, but soon I was overcome with guilt from not updating so I shortened the previous chapter to give y'all a little something.

Who's ready for the Council of Elrond?

Disclaimer: Thanks again for reminding me that I don't own LOTR... just Runíla. :'(

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><p>The door revealed a large patio looking out at a forest with leaves in brilliant reds and oranges. The sound of running water and birds chirping filled the air, but the atmosphere still felt tense. Chairs were arranged in a circle around a smooth stone decorated with intricate carvings. One grand chair was set at the edge, obviously for Lord Elrond. Several men were already seated, but one in particular caught Runíla's eye. Aragorn caught her eye and smiled, recognizing her although the cloak and hood made it impossible for anyone to even tell what gender she was. She tilted her head in response, not wanting to say anything yet.<p>

The most intriguing sight at the council was the group of sour looking dwarves, all clutching their axes and glaring at the equally anxious elves as if they expected them to pull out bows and swords any second. Runíla was surprised they were there. The mutual dislike between elves and dwarves caused them to avoid each other as often as possible, so this meant that the council was even more important than she originally thought.

Runíla took a seat to the left of Aragorn and earned some odd looks from all three races present. She was just about to start a whispered conversation with him when a small, curly-haired hobbit entered with a familiar looking wizard. At the sight of Gandalf, her face broke out into a large smile hidden by her hood. Lord Elrond raised his hands, a gesture for everyone to be seated. For a minute all the sounds heard were the scraping of chairs against the stone floor.

"Strangers from distant lands, friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor." He spoke. "Middle Earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo." He gestured to the stone.

Runíla sighed. She was right about the council's purpose. Darkness had been growing lately, reaching its icy fingers out through the land, something she had noticed almost immediately. It was the main reason for her return to Rivendell, although she did owe her friends a visit.

All eyes were fixed on the hobbit as he stood up and stepped slowly towards the stone, placing a shining gold ring on it. Runíla leaned forward in anticipation, her look of surprise masked by the dark hood. This couldn't be it - the _one ring_, Sauron's greatest weapon. It was lost years ago until it was forgotten, simply an uncommon myth. But it was _there_, calling, just in front of her, she could walk forward and snatch it up in just a few seconds...

Runíla snapped back into reality and shook her head, forcing the whispered voices from her mind. It would only bring destruction and darkness, that much she knew. Determined not to fall under its spell, she turned her gaze away from the Ring as a man from Gondor stood and spoke.

"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark. But in the west, a pale light lingered. A voice was crying, 'Doom is near at hand, Isildur's Bane is found.' He stepped close to the Ring. "Isildur's Bane..." He said softly and stretched out a hand to the ring, reaching closer and closer...

"Boromir!" Lord Elron called out, standing. But Gandalf acted first. A cloud passed over the council and a dark presence seemed to surge around them. Runíla clutched her head in pain as Gandalf's dark speech rang loudly through her ears and shook the council.

"_Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul."_

Light filled the space agin as Boromir stepped back and sat down, shocked.

"Never before has anyone spoke the words of that tongue here in Ímladris." Elrond said, looking slightly miffed.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond, for the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West!" Gandalf spoke to the council members, slightly out of breath. "The ring is altogether evil."

Runíla glanced at the man from Gondor before turning her attention back to Gandalf.

"No, it is a gift, a gift to the foes of Mordor!" The man stood and strode to the council's center. "Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people are your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy! Let us use it against him!" The man spoke with passion, but he fooled no one.

Runíla rose to her feet quickly, offended by what he had said. "I do not know your name, Son of Gondor, but I do know that you are wrong." She stepped forward, facing him.

She couldn't believe that he thought Gondor's forces were the only obstacle between the growing darkness and the rest of Middle Earth. Part of it was true, after all, sharing a border with Sauron obviously meant that Gondor had to defend themselves, but they were most certainly not the only thing standing in the Dark Lord's way.

"And who are you to challenge me?" He spat.

"Many have heard of me... and those who fear me are right to do so." Runíla spoke mysteriously, taking a few steps away from him.

"Why are you so secretive? Take your hood off so I may see what kind of man has so little faith in his own race!"

Faster than the human eye could follow, strode forward until she was only a foot away from him. He blinked with surprise. All he saw was the tip of a pale nose poking out of the hood

"You are too quick to jump to conclusions, Gondorian." She snapped and brushed the side of her cloak aside so he could see she was resting a casual hand on her sword hilt. Runíla opened her mouth to voice her thoughts on his rudeness, when Aragorn sprang up and grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"Do not pick a fight." He hissed quietly. "This council is meant to strengthen bonds and defeat Sauron, not create new enemies with the people that may be our only hope one day."

"If that _arse_ will ever be our only hope, we might as well give in already." She muttered, wrenching her arm from his grasp and sitting down. Aragorn followed her.

"Take your seat Boromir." Elrond gestured to his chair. He was ignored, and Boromir continued his speech in the hopes of inspiring someone there.

"If the Ring was in Gondor's hands - " He began, but was cut off by Aragorn.

"You cannot wield it. None of us can." Boromir turned to him. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

Boromir's expression turned sour as he surveyed Aragorn. "And what would a Ranger know of this matter?"

An elf who was seated across the council rose, infuriated. "This is no mere Ranger. He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance." The elf stared a seething Boromir down until he turned his attention back to Aragorn.

"Aragorn. _This_ is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Spoke the elf, who Boromir turned to, fuming. Aragorn sighed.

"_Havo dad_, Legolas."

"Gondor has no king." Boromir turned to make his way back to his seat and glanced at Aragorn. "Gondor needs no king."

Runíla scoffed, earning her a glare from Boromir, which she kindly returned.

Gandalf was next to speak. "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

Elrond straightened and adressed the council. "We have only one choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

"What are we waiting for?" Growled a dwarf who sprang up from his chair and reached for his axe. He leaped for the pedestal and brought his axe down with enough force to chop an orc in half, but was thrown back, axe shattered. Runíla examined the Ring, expecting it to have at least a small dent or chink in its flawless surface, but to her astonishment, the Ring was unscathed.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Glóin, by any craft that we here possess." Elrond surveyed the audience. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and back into the firey chasm from whence it came."

The council was deathly quiet.

"One of you must do this."

For a moment, Runíla considered taking the Ring into her own hands, but those thoughts were quickly overshadowed by the doubt and fear of the consequences of her failure. She was no stronger in mind than a normal elf, so why should she assume the task that an older, wiser being could carry out? Her thoughts were interrupted by someone speaking.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor." Boromir said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Its black gates are guarded by more than just orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep." Many of the listeners' fear was shown clearly on their faces. "The Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, and ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly." He spoke angrily.

The same elf who defended Aragorn stood again and turned to Boromir accusingly, "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The Ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" exclaimed the dwarf who had attempted to take an axe to the ring. Boromir stood again.

"And if we fail what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" he said heatedly.

The dwarf was the third to rise as he bellowed, "I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands on an elf!" Every elf in the council except for Elrond and Runíla stood and stepped threateningly towards the dwarves. Shouts and accusations were thrown from both races as the first elf to stand, the one who defended Aragorn, attempted to hold back some of his fellow elves. Elrond glanced at Runíla, slightly surprised that she took his advice and controlled her temper, staying out of the fight.

"Never trust an elf!" came the gruff yell of the dwarf again.

Runíla wished she could step into the mayhem, although she wasn't sure if she would try and stop it or just edge it on further. Besides, she wanted to keep her identity a secret for as long as possible.

Soon Gandalf rose and began to engage in a shouting match with Boromir. Runíla watched the scene unfold with a rather amused expression that was hidden by the shadow of her hood, but Aragorn had a small frown etched on his features.

Then, something in the corner of the council caught Runíla's eye. The hobbit, Frodo rose to his feet and took a few steps forward, looking tense.

"I will take it!" His tiny voice was barely audible above the din, and no one turned to him. "I will take it!"

Gandalf closed his eyes and turned to the halfling and the shouts died down.

"I will take the Ring to Mordor." He spoke again, to the astonishment of everyone there. "Though I do not know the way."

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins," Gandalf closed the distance between the two and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "As long as it is yours to bear."

As Runíla expected, Aragorn came forth next. "If by my life or death I can protect you, I will." He knelt in front of the hobbit. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow." Spoke the elf, joining Aragorn and Gandalf behind Frodo.

"And my axe." Came the dwarf. He and the elf looked _thrilled _to be standing next to each other.

The last person Runíla expected to step forward did exactly that.

"You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done."

"Hey!" A yell came from a nearby bush as a creature the same size as Frodo (but perhaps a bit more portly) burst into the council. "Mr. Frodo ain't going anywhere without me."

Elrond was having a difficult time fighting the smile on his face. "No indeed, it is hardly possible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

"We're coming too!" someone yelled and two more hobbits sprinted next to Frodo and the other hobbit. "You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyways," the other one said, "you need people of intellegence on this sort of mission... quest... thing."

"Well that rules you out, Pip." muttered the other one.

By now, Runíla's face was turning pink from holding in her laughter.

"The nine companions - " Elrond began but was cut off.

"Excuse me, Lord Elrond." sounded a voice from the back of the council. "But I should like to volunteer my services." The crowd parted, letting the cloaked figure stride to the front. "That is, if Mister Baggins will have me."

Boromir's face grew bitter at the sight of the person he had quarreled with previously. "I will not fight alongside someone with whom I am not acquainted. Show your face instead of hiding in the shadow!"

Runíla straightened up and finally tossed back her hood which was enough to reveal her gender, but her form was still slightly darkened from the shadow of the wall. "Are you pleased, Son of Gondor?" She demanded.

Boromir's astonishment was quickly masked by anger and turned to Lord Elrond. "You cannot possibly be considering having a _woman_ on this quest? What help could she give?"

"You are getting everything wrong, Boromir, son of Denethor." She chuckled darkly and pushed back her wavy hair, revealing pointed ears. "I am an elf."

She stepped into the sunlight so everyone at the council could see her.

The light shone against skin more tanned from days in the sun than most elf maidens, but still fair. A dark shirt and pair of pants worn and caked with dirt seemed to suit her solid stance. Steely blue-gray eyes flicked to all of the council members, almost like she was sizing them up. But by far her most striking feature was the fiery red hair that fell to her back in slightly tangled waves.

"Here's a tip for you, Son of Gondor." She smirked. "Think before you insult. For over one thousand five hundred years I have protected Middle Earth, longer than your family tree stretches back, no doubt. I have traveled across these lands alone for years, hunting down orcs and other creatures that would harm our peace. And you would have the nerve to not let me do my duty?"

Runíla turned away from the frustrated man and back to the hobbit, who still appeared wary of the elleth standing before him.

"Are you... who I think you are?" Came his tentative question.

She knelt in front of Frodo. "They call me The Flash, though some refer to me as Sílanor, Rovannor, Ruinil, or Narunor." At this announcement, whispers spread though the crowd like the plague.

"Gandalf has told me tales of your great battles."

"Then will you accept me as a companion on your quest?" Her intense blue-gray eyes searched his, silently praying that he would.

"I would not want to deprive you of doing your duty." He answered, casting an amused glance in Boromir's direction.

Runíla chuckled, relieved. "Then you have my sword." She took her place beside Aragorn.

Elrond surveyed the group approvingly. "Ten compnaions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great!" Piped up one of the hobbits. "Where are we going?"

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><p>Translations:<p>

_Havo dad, Legolas_ - Sit down, Legolas.


	5. Chapter 5

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 5**

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><p>It was late afternoon when Runíla finally ascended the steps back into the city. Her afternoon had been spent in the woods surrounding Rivendell, exploring and crafting new arrows which were now proudly displayed in the quiver slung across her back.<p>

Echoing footsteps rang from behind her and Runíla turned. A young elf messenger came bustling towards her. "Sílanor." He bowed his head in respect as he addressed her by one of her many names, and she nodded in return. "Lord Elrond has summoned you to tonight's feast for all of our guests. As a guest of Lord Elrond, your presence is required. Please arrive at the Great Hall at sundown, and," he eyed her dirt caked, worn men's clothing, and shank under her glare. "dress appropriately."

The messenger retreated down the hall after bowing his head again to her. Runíla stood in the middle of the hallway and sighed before reluctantly returning to her room to prepare for a night of something she hated more than almost anything: socializing.

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><p>The hall was practically bursting with life. Runíla's ears were ringing with chatter and laughter that filled the hall. She found that the sounds were akin to that of a battlefield with the shrieks and the metallic clatter of cutlery, although it was lighter. She had attempted to hide away in a corner of the hall, but every once and a while she would be offered a drink which she would occasionally accept and return to glaring at anyone who stared at her clothes. Women wearing men's attire was almost unheard of, and being dressed like that at a feast was particularly unnatural, and, to some, disrespectful. Not that she particularly cared.<p>

Dancers swirled about the center of the floor, the tables cleared to the sides. Occasionally she would catch the eye of her friend Arwen and offer a small smile, recalling the reunion they had earlier. Runíla thought she could hear two voices that rang similar to those of the two youngest hobbits, Merry and Pippin, but she couldn't see much more than their heads over the crowd.

It was getting late and Runíla was debating whether she should slip out rather than be faced any longer with the torture of sitting alone in a corner surrounded by so many people when she was approached by someone she barely recognized.

"Bilbo Baggins?" she asked, eyebrows raised. Even though she was seated, she was still forced to look down at the old hobbit. His face was as weathered as the world he had seen. Wrinkles lined almost every possible spot on his face and he stood slightly hunched over, leaning on a wooden cane. Bright blue eyes peered at her, and she noticed that despite his age, they still had the curious and adventurous spark they did when he was younger.

"In the flesh, my lady." He managed a small bow, despite his hunch.

"Please, sir, sit." She insisted, drawing up a nearby chair for his use. "And you need not address me as 'lady'. I want no such title to follow my name."

Bilbo sat with a sigh. "I have heard many stories of you, Sílanor."

"That I do not doubt."

"I admit to being most curious about your perspective on them."

"This is not my first time encountering you, Mr. Baggins." Runíla said, to his surprise. "Although it was many years ago." She paused. "I was at the Battle of the Five Armies. I glimpsed you from a distance, although I did not know your role until Gandalf told me years later."

"Which side did you fight with? The Elves, or the Men?" He asked.

"I didn't fight with any army." She replied. "I just threw myself into the middle of the chaos."

"I suppose they should have called it the Battle of the Six armies then, if your fighting prowess is as the stories make it out to be."

Runíla offered a small smile at this comment and they slipped into a comfortable silence.

After a while, the hobbit spoke.

"I assume it's all true, then. The stories about you, fighting orcs all across Middle Earth."

"You make it sound glamorous." She took a small sip of her wine. "I've managed to keep the truth from the ears of many people and I fully intend to keep it that way."

Bilbo leaned forward in his chair. "I am a curious hobbit, Sílanor."

"Please, I prefer Runíla."

He nodded. "Curiosity isn't very hobbitish, but it's there in me all the same. Gandalf proved that much to me when he showed up on my doorstep all those years ago. I'm far too old to travel nowadays. I do, however, like to quench my thirst for adventure every once and a while with a good story. So, Runíla, will you indulge me?"

"This story is not one of those tales, trust me." She said sharply. Her cup slammed down rather harshly onto the table beside her, wine slopping over the side. She made to get up.

"I thought as much. Still, I would very much like to hear it." He looked at her softly. "Please, sit back down."

She looked at him suspiciously and sank back into her seat as he chuckled, that curious gleam twinkling in his eyes.

"I'm a cranky old hobbit who spends all of his time sleeping, walking the gardens, and locked in Lord Elrond's library. Who am I going to tell?"

Runíla sighed, resigned, and shifted in her chair. Placing her goblet beside her, she cleared her throat.

"My father was a wealthy merchant living in the Greatwood. He and my mother were both born and raised in Mirkwood. I was the eldest child - my younger brother, Híthannas, was only a decade younger than me. I was not yet 50 when my father broke the law. He wanted to begin trading with the dwarves. He believed exchanging our forging techniques would help both Elves and Dwarves craft more advanced weaponry, the fool." She shook her head. "But, as I am sure you are aware, dwarves and elves have not agreed on anything for a very long time... My father brought up the idea in secret while away on business with some dwarves he met and tolerated him enough to hear his suggestions. They were, naturally, appalled and extremely insulted that he believed their weaponry could be improved. The dwarves took his as their prisoner, marched him back to Mirkwood, and threw him across the border. Upon his return to Mirkwood, he was immediately executed on charges of treason." Runíla's eyes were far away by that point. "My mother, brother and I were exiled, forbidden to ever return to the kingdom of Mirkwood. We lived off the land for a while. My mother knew a bit about healing and which plants were safe to eat. I'm not sure how long we roamed, it must have been several years. Everything from that period of time is blurred, I do not remember much. Until one day. I had grown to enjoy climbing trees as a child, and I would often go off on my own and sit in the branches, sometimes trying to craft arrows." A small smile tweaked the edges of her mouth, but it vanished within moments. "I was seated in the top of a large oak tree, keeping as still as possible. I could hear a large group of what I assumed were travelers passing nearby. This was not a rare event, but I hadn't had any real social interaction since we were exiled from Mirkwood, so I often kept as far away as possible, scared to face anyone other and my mother and Híthannas. Soon, after the footsteps had vanished, it was nearing sunset, and I knew my mother would be expecting me back. When I returned to our camp, it became clear that it was not travelers I heard."

Her face twisted into a mix of disgust and emptiness.

"Runíla, you do not have to - "

"Honestly, you're not going to make me stop now, are you?" She smiled dryly.

"A band of orcs had ravaged our campsite. Our few belongings were scattered, ripped, and half burnt. My dead mother was draped over a low hanging branch, her blood soaked dress torn in several places, revealing deep wounds. Híthannas, who was not yet 50 at the time, lay crumpled beneath the same tree my mother hung from, his left leg lying ten feet away from him and a gaping wound stretching across his chest. He was close to death. He cried out to me, begging me to help him, to find plants that would heal him, to please, _please_ stop the pain - but I knew there was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do. He said if I loved him I would save him. It didn't take long for him to die. A final squeeze of his hand and I was left alone with corpses. So I gathered what I could from the debris, placed my mother and brother together, burned their bodies, and left.

Would it bother you if I was to say that their death never haunted me? I knew, no matter what my brother's last words were, that there was nothing I could do. I accepted it, the helplessness. I hardly liked it, but I would not keep the truth from myself simply out of guilt. It was luck, pure luck, that I wandered away from our camp that day.

It was not long until I discovered a group of nomadic elves. They took me in and became my family, teaching me to read, write, track any creature in any landscape, and, most importantly, to fight. Nearly all of them were exceptional archers, and they helped me craft my first bow." Another slight smile appeared on her face, and this time it stayed. "One elf taught me healing. I had not been taught sword fighting yet, as we had no worthy blades, but by about the age of 250, I was a talented archer, athlete, and healer. I had expressed my need to see the world often, and when I announced that I would be leaving, they did not stop me. I left, and after a long time, I stumbled into Rivendell, exhausted and filthy. Lord Elrond took me in, giving me a place in his house. Arwen and I became fast friends, despite my lack of ladylike ways, and her two twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, who are over there," She pointed to a far corner of the hall where two identical dark haired elves stood, "were the first to introduce me to sparring. It was soon noticed that in addition to being a skillful archer, I had an aptitude for fighting. I was instructed on the use of nearly every weapon imaginable. At age 450, I had improved in archery and was equally as skilled with a blade. Then, Lord Elrond received news that orcs were abroad again, and a group of nomadic elves had been attacked and killed. I knew who they were. I knew who did it. And I wanted blood.

I left Rivendell in the night and hunted down any orcs I could find, traveling all around Middle Earth. Food, water, and my own well-being were no longer a priority. I fulfilled my promise for revenge but I discovered that I liked it. I liked being on my own, I liked having a purpose, and most of all I liked fighting, so I decided not to stop. Eventually people heard of me, or rather, this 'Flash'." Bilbo nodded. He was relieved to see that her face had grown lighter as they changed topics. "They spun it into these extraordinary tales. I always found their far-fetched ideas amusing. They never could imagine the truth."

The silence enveloped them for several minutes, and Bilbo let Runíla's story sink in.

"Now, Mr. Baggins," she said. "did that satisfy your curiosity?"

"You're a peculiar one, aren't you?"

"I've heard worse."

She noticed that only a few people were left and stood up suddenly.

"Thank you very much for speaking with me, Mr. Baggins. It was a pleasure." Runíla started towards the door but turned back when she heard her name being called.

Bilbo slowly got to his feet and took her callused hand in his smooth, wrinkled one. He winked. "Shoot straight."

And with that, the old hobbit hobbled out the door, leaving Runíla with a very odd feeling inside.

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><p>AN: Here's another one I re-wrote. Sorry, again, for the false alarm.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Hello again! I'm back with Chapter 6! Not much going on in this chapter I'm afraid, it's a bit short, but the juicy stuff is coming. Thanks again to Glory Bee and dandapanda – you guys rock! Reviews definitely help my motivation to update… (hint hint :P)

There's a bit of Sindarin in this chapter, I'll include translations at the bottom. I'm not entirely sure it's right, but I hope it is.

Enjoy!

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 6**

The next morning dawned cool and clear, but Runíla was not around to see it. Since the earliest hours of the morning, she had been locked in her room preparing for the Fellowship's departure later that morning. It was not until most people had finished breakfast that she emerged from her chambers.

Anyone who would have passed her in the halls of Rivendell would surely have turned the opposite direction if she approached them. Her newly sharpened sword hung from her waist, dual knives strapped to her back along with her bow and a newly polished set of throwing knives wrapped around her waist certainly made her an intimidating sight.

Runíla had just finished an apple when she made her way out to the archway where the Fellowship would be seen off. Aragorn, Elrond, a group of elf maidens including Arwen, and the other elf, Legolas, had already gathered, and a small pony stood by them. She sent them a swift nod and a half smile towards Arwen, Elrond, and Aragorn before leaning against the arch.

The dwarf, Gimli, soon appeared, closely followed by Boromir, causing Runíla's lip to curl in disgust and her hand to casually wrap around her sword hilt. Luckily, he had the sense to stay as far away from her as possible.

Merry, Pippin and Sam descended the steps not long after, and Sam took the reins of the pony from Aragorn.

Runíla headed towards Arwen, jerking her head towards a private area just out of earshot. The two elleths looked at each other for a moment, silent, before hugging each other tightly.

"I'll see you soon, _mellon nín_." Said Arwen, smiling softly.

"Arwen-"

"_Daro í_." Arwen looked Runíla boldly in the eye and spoke confidently. "I _will_ see you again."

But Runíla was not sure of this. She knew Arwen's father would want her to take the ship to Valinor. He had foreseen many dark things that he did not share with others, but Runíla knew. She saw it in his eyes; the anxiousness mixed with devastation that he expertly hid beneath determination.

Also, the quest Runíla was about to embark on was going to test her in every way possible, and she had known since the moment she volunteered that there would be a good chance she would never return. But even though she was faced with that harsh reality, she had devoted her life to protecting the people of Middle Earth. This quest was where she belonged, for she belonged wherever Middle Earth and its people needed her most.

The two elves shared one last tight embrace before pulling apart once more.

"_No veren, no diríel._" Arwen warned.

Runíla nodded. "I will, _mellon nín_."

She turned to head back to the group gathered beneath the archway.

"Runíla – " Arwen called, suddenly sounding slightly panicked. Runíla turned to see her friend's lip trembling, her eyes wide with fear.

"Please, do what you can to – to keep him safe."

Runíla knew she was talking about Aragorn.

"I'll do my best."

And with one last, soft smile, Runíla turned back to the group.

When she returned, Runíla noticed that Gandalf and Frodo had joined them, Frodo looking pale and slightly nervous. Elrond stood before them, stern and severe.

"The Ring Bearer is setting out on the Quest of Mount Doom. On you who travel with him no oath nor bond is laid, to go further than you will."

Elrond surveyed the Fellowship, meeting each of their eyes. Runíla stood a bit taller and her hand tightened on her sword hilt, determined.

"Farewell. Hold to your purpose. May the blessings of Elves and Men and all free folk go with you."

The Fellowship all bowed their heads, Runíla and Legolas placing their left hand over their hearts and then holding it out a bit in the Elvish fashion. Runíla nodded to Elrond and offered one last small smile to Arwen before she turned around.

Frodo led the way out, closely followed by Gandalf, the others falling into step behind them. With her acute elvish hearing, Runíla heard Frodo whisper to Gandlaf,

"Mordor, Gandlaf. Is it left or right?"

"Left." He replied.

And left they went.

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><p><strong>Translations<strong>

_Mellon nín_ – my friend

_Daro í_ – stop that

_No veren, no diríel_ – be bold, be watchful


	7. Chapter 7

A** Flash of Red**

**Chapter 7**

AN: Hey! Thanks so much for reading! Whoever asked for some feisty Runíla in this chapter… you're going to get it.

And thanks so much to everyone who reviewed last chapter! You rock!

Sorry this one took so long, I was having some minor writer's block.

Enjoy, and please **MAKE MY DAY** and **RATE/REVIEW**!

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><p>By the seventh day, Runíla was just about ready to throw herself from a cliff.<p>

She was used to traveling in solitude, surrounded by a peaceful silence, and this was _far_ from peaceful. The footsteps of nine others often made her feel like she was being surrounded and the noise of other people breathing, talking, and laughing weighed heavy on her ears.

Boromir also got on her nerves sent her contemptuous looks several times a day. Runíla got so sick of it that she wanted nothing more than to give him a hard kick, but she knew that would do no good.

But what irked Runíla the most was the other elf in the Fellowship, Legolas. He was constantly trying to get close to her and start a conversation. She believed he probably considered Men, Elves, and Dwarves beneath him, and she often treated him quite cooly. _After all, he's a prince_, she thought,_ and therefore most likely snotty and spoiled rotten_, which was unfortunate, considering he still had her arrow. Sometimes, however, when she thought this, a small voice in the back of her head commented, _But he defended Aragorn at the council... They must know each other, therefore Legolas can't possibly believe Aragorn to be beneath him..._

Runíla often told this voice to shut up and ignored it. Plus, he was the prince of Mirkwood, and making friends with the prince of the kingdom she had been exiled from was possibly the stupidest thing Runíla could possibly do, and Runíla took pride in not doing stupid things.

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><p>Merry and Pippin had been complaining for nearly two hours before Gandalf finally made the decision to stop and make camp. Shrugging off her quiver, and short swords, Runíla set them at the base of a large birch tree that stood at the edge of a small clearing. If she had not been so annoyed from a days worth of avoiding Legolas, glares from Boromir, (all of which were returned) and incessant complaining, she would have appreciated the simple beauty of the place.<p>

Dappled light that filtered through the trees illuminated the glowing red leaves that carpeted the forest floor like coals. A steady wind rustled the boughs above, and the breeze carried a fresh, clean scent.

The four hobbits and Gimli the dwarf collapsed near the center of the clearing and immediately began rummaging for food in their sacs. The others spread out across the clearing and shrugged off most of their weapons and packs. Gandalf seated himself on a small boulder near the hobbits and fell into deep conversation with Frodo while Legolas and Aragorn disappeared into the trees to search for firewood, leaving, to her great displeasure, Runíla alone with Boromir.

She carefully positioned herself as far enough away from him as possible, while still being a safe enough distance away from Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, Gimli, and Gandalf as to avoid having to speak with them.

Leaning against a tree, she avoided looking at anyone and began to polish and sharpen her already gleaming throwing knives. Runíla became very absorbed in her work, following a precise routine.

Around her, the hobbits, Gimli, and Gandalf were laughing uproariously while Boromir had begun to clear off some of the leaves for their fire. She paid no attention to anyone and was lost in her thoughts until the crunching of leaves caused her to look up.

Boromir stood directly in front of her. Runíla raised one eyebrow at him and continued sharpening one of her knives, the whetstone moving in a steady rhythm. They stood silent for several moments until Boromir cleared his throat.

"How may I help you?" Runíla asked, a sickly sweet, sarcastic smile stretched across her lips.

Boromir's eye twitched, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with ill-disguised anger.

"I have come to accept the apology you are going to give me for being rude at the council."

For a moment Runíla thought he was joking, but the anger and disgust twisting his face was enough for her to know that he was being truthful.

To his surprise, she smiled.

"You know, you really are funnier than you get credit for." She straighten up and crossed her arms defiantly. "Did it occur to you that there might not be an apology to accept?"

He countered her remark swifter than she expected.

"Apologizing for being wrong would be the mature thing to do. As an elf that has lived for hundreds of years, I would expect you to know that."

"I have lived for hundreds of years, but my experiences have never taught me to apologize for speaking the truth." Her slightly playful, sarcastic demeanor evaporated, turning to sharp anger. "You act as if Gondor is the last line of defense between the Free People and the forces of Mordor!"

"It is!" Their voices were growing steadily louder.

"It is _not_! Your kingdom is not the only one who has lost people fighting! Not just your peoples' innocent blood has been spilt! Besides, Sauron's forces are still growing! When he is at his full strength, Gondor will be _flattened, _razed to the ground!"

"Then why did you volunteer for this quest? Why did you volunteer yourself if you have no hope?"

"I said _Gondor_ will be flattened, not all of free Middle Earth! Gondor is breaking from within, it hasn't been at its full strength for _years_!"

They had been yelling for quite some time now, and were beginning to attract the attention of the rest of the Fellowship.

Boromir took a step closer and lowered his voice.

"Are you insulting my father's rule?"

"Truthfully, yes." She replied cooly. "I have heard that the joy of power has latched its steel fingers around his heart and mind. Denethor no longer cares for the safety of his kingdom, nor of Middle Earth."

"You have no right to be disrespecting my father. You should not even be on this quest! Go back to the kitchens where you belong, _woman. _Try donning a dress and doing some needlework, won't you?" He snapped.

Runíla was deathly silent. Boromir began to smirk as he realized she had no comeback. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gandalf stand, alarmed, but she paid him no heed.

Boromir's pride grew even greater when she dropped her head in defeat and let the whetstone, which had previously been clutched tight in her fist, slipped through her fingers and thumped to the ground.

But then Runíla exploded.

Boromir took several steps backwards as he was suddenly met with a newly sharpened knife dangerously close to his nose and fierce tirade of insults. His hand flew to the handle of his sword but it gripped nothing but air; he had left it over on the other side of the clearing.

Runíla's eyes were flashing as she waved the dagger perilously close.

"GO BACK TO THE _KITCHENS_?! WEAR A _DRESS_?!" She shrieked, advancing towards him. "SON OF GONDOR, I HAVE DONE MORE FIGHTING IN THE PAST DECADE THAN YOU WILL IN A DOZEN LIFETIMES! MY ENTIRE LIFE HAS BEEN DEDICATED TO PROTECTING THE LAND YOU WALK ON AND YOU DARE ASK ME _WHY_ I AM ON THIS QUEST?! YOU TELL ME TO STOP DOING MY DUTY TO MIDDLE EARTH?!"

By then, Boromir had recovered himself and was attempting to retaliate, but he found it impossible to speak during her wild diatribe.

"I TAKE THIS AS IN INSULT NOT ONLY AS A WARRIOR, BUT AS A FEMALE. WE ARE NOT WALKING THIS EARTH SIMPLY TO COOK MEN'S FOOD, WASH THEIR CLOTHES, AND BEAR THEIR CHILDREN. WHERE WOULD YOU BE WITHOUT WOMEN? AND YOU THINK JUST BECAUSE IT IS MOST WOMEN'S WISH TO WORK IN A HOUSEHOLD, THAT I AM UNABLE TO FIGHT FOR OUR WORLD?!"

Birds erupted from the surrounding trees, startled at her voice. The knife Runíla was waving in Boromir's face nicked his cheek, and his face contorted in anger again.

"Men's place is on the battlefield, it has always been and will always be! You should respect that age-old belief!" He yelled.

"That may be your belief, Son of Gondor, but it is not mine, and I will not conform to your ideas of place!" She snarled. "If you doubt me as a fighter, then duel me!"

She threw the knife with deadly accuracy without as much as a glance towards the knot in the tree it thudded into, just over Boromir's left shoulder. Her steely, narrowed eyes remained fixed on his the entire time. She reached down to grab her dual swords, yanking them out of their sheath and twirling them in her hands while stepping forward. Lips bared in a ferocious snarl, her vision was clouded with red, anger and the intense desire to thrust one of her swords in his gut fierce.

"Pick up your sword," she sneered, "and fight like the _man_ you supposedly are!"

Footsteps sounded at the edge of the clearing and Aragorn burst out of the trees, closely followed by Legolas. Aragorn leapt forward and seized Runíla just as she was about to lunge forward and bury her sword into Boromir's throat. Aragorn's heels gouged great holes in the dirt as he struggled to keep her from pouncing.

"_Daro! Daro, mellon nín! _Legolas, help me hold her!" He grunted. Legolas sprang forward, dodging her swords, and helped Aragorn drag her back by the waist. Together, they succeeded in pinning the writhing elleth against a broad tree so tightly that sharp pieces of bark dug into her back. Aragorn pried her fingers off of the hilts of her swords and tossed them out of her reach, but she still strained against the strong grip of Aragorn and Legolas.

Aragorn turned to a shocked Boromir.

"Get back." He panted.

At first Boromir did not move. His eyes stayed focused on the thrashing elf whose deep, flaming red hair whipped around her head.

"Get _back_!" Aragorn repeated, desperate. "It's you she wants to attack. If we ever want her to calm down, you must be gone."

Boromir turned and hurried over to stand behind Gandalf, Gimli and the hobbits, but paused and turned back when Runíla spoke.

"I hope you realize how lucky you are." She spat with all the contempt she could muster. She had ceased struggling and spoke much quieter than before. "Because if you ever say such things to me again, mark my words, Son of Gondor," She paused and looked him dead in the eye.

"_I will have your head_."

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><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

****_Daro _- Stop

_Mellon nín_ - My friend

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><p>Dun Dun Dun Daaaaa! There it is! I hope you liked it! I struggled with it at first, but now I am very happy with the end result and had a great time writing it. Please review with any comments, good or bad, that you have!<p>

Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 8**

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><p>Disclaimer: I realized I forgot to do this the last couple chapters. Oops! Anyways, I don't own The Lord of the Rings, but I do own Runíla.<p>

A/N: Welcome back! Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! XD I hope you liked it! Anyways, here's Chapter 8. It's not my best writing, I'm saving that for a few chapters later.

Happy reading!

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><p>Aragorn flung Runíla forwards, releasing his tight grip on her upper arm once they had lost themselves far enough in the woods. She stumbled forward and braced herself against a tree before standing upright.<p>

"What was that?" demanded Aragorn, his chest heaving.

Runíla didn't reply, sinking onto the ground with her back against a tree trunk.

"You can't act like this." He pleaded, stepping forward. "Not when there's so much at stake. The Fellowship is Middle Earth's only hope for defeating Sauron, but we can't do any good if you two are at each other's throats every second of the day."

"It's not like he didn't deserve it." She huffed, crossing her arms.

"I'm not saying he didn't," said Aragorn, "but at least try to get your anger under control. Gandalf is probably beside himself."

Runíla let out a forced chuckle.

"I am not apologizing." She added.

"And I was not asking you to."

"Good."

"Runíla," he sat next to her, "he may try and get on your nerves now, but you mustn't let him. Try to avoid him, ignore him if you must, but please, don't try to attack him again, no matter how much he deserves it."

"Easier said than done." She muttered, making Aragorn sigh. "But I'll try."

They sat silently for a minute, each immersed in their own thoughts.

"Do you think he can succeed?" She asked quietly. Aragorn immediately knew who she was referring to, however he hesitated before answering.

"He is strong minded and determined." He said slowly and thoughtfully. "Yes, I do think Frodo is our best and only hope. Gandalf believes it, so I believe it too."

They fell into silence once more.

"What if Boromir tries to apologize to me?" Runíla asked after a few minutes.

"I doubt it, but it he does, accept it. Just be as courteous as possible. He doesn't need another reason to despise you."

"He won't be getting an apology from me."

"Of course he won't. You never apologize, not even when you're wrong." said Aragorn, laughing.

Runíla laughed along with him, feeling lighter than she had all week. Suddenly, her keen Elvish hearing picked up distant footsteps drawing near, and she paused. Aragorn stopped laughing as well.

Legolas emerged from the trees. Runíla stood up, her face now its usual solid, expressionless mask.

"Gandalf wants you back, if you are ready." He said. Runíla only nodded and avoided his eyes as Aragorn rose and followed her back to the clearing, Legolas on their heels.

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><p>Back at the Fellowship's camp, the air was extremely tense. As soon as she had returned, Gandalf had pulled her to the far side and given her a loud admonishment on acting rashly, accompanied with a hard swipe around her head. Runíla caught a glimpse of Boromir's satisfied expression when Gandalf finally released her, and she immediately looked away, feeling, although she would never admit it, slightly ashamed.<p>

But what made the elleth the most uncomfortable was the way the hobbits looked at her. Merry and Pippin appeared to be terrified, occasionally peeking at her and turning away hurriedly when she met their eyes. Sam flat out refused to acknowledge her presence, keeping his back to her and positioning himself between Runíla and Frodo as if he was afraid she would be after his Master next.

It was Frodo who seemed to be the most daring of the hobbits. He met her eyes several times, seemingly unafraid, and he would gaze at her curiously for a few moments before turning away. He did not seem to be completely undaunted by her, however. Whenever she made a slight movement, Runíla noticed a hint of fear would flicker in his eyes, but it vanished as quick as it appeared.

Darkness was just beginning to creep into the edges of the sky when Sam passed around plates of sizzling sausages and tomatoes for dinner. Runíla politely turned the sausages down, and instead settled for a tomato and a handful of plump red berries she had happened upon in the woods. No one spoke as they ate, and Runíla soon found herself desperately wishing to be traveling now, where she could avoid the stares and restless atmosphere.

The Fellowship settled down to sleep near the fire, but Runíla headed over to a broad oak tree on the opposite end of the clearing and scaled it, resting on a branch far up. As she leaned her head back against the trunk and closed her eyes, she picked up on a whispered conversation between Marry, Pippin, and Sam.

"What do you think she's doin'?" said Pippin.

"Sleepin' up there, I expect." said Merry. "Probably doesn't want to be near any of us right now."

"That was scary, earlier." Pippin whispered. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone so angry in my life."

"He was bein' rather rude." Merry glanced over at Boromir. "Suppose he kind of deserved it."

"You don't think she's workin' for the other side, do you?" asked Sam. "She doesn't seem particularly nice."

"No, Aragorn and Gandalf have known her for ages, they said. Plus, she's that legend that Bilbo mentioned to us once. If she's been fightin' the orcs for centuries, why would she stop now?" whispered Merry.

"I wonder why she's been fighting for so long." said Pippin thoughtfully.

"It's something personal, I expect." Merry replied. "Why else would she dedicate her life to it?"

Runíla tuned them out, lying down on the branch. The hobbits were more observant than she thought.

The fire was flickering lazily, casting just enough light to illuminate the hobbits curled up on the ground. Gimli snored thunderously beside them, and suddenly Runíla was immensely glad she wasn't with the others by the fire. The silhouettes of Aragorn, Gandalf, and Boromir were all seated farther away, and Legolas was merely an unmoving shadow standing guard by the edge of the clearing.

Runíla turned her head to the night sky. She did not sleep that night, just stared up at the patches of indigo sky between the branches of the oak tree until morning.

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><p>AN: There you go! I hope you liked it! Feel free to tell me whatever you thought about it, good or bad, in the review box!

Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 9**

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><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, but I do own Runíla.<p>

A/N: Hello! Thanks for reading, and special thanks to dandapanda for reviewing! (All will be revealed in time, my friend :P) I don't really have anything else to say here other than I'm on a writing roll so… enjoy!

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><p>The clang of metal against metal rang through the air as Aragorn called out tips to Merry and Pippin. The Fellowship was camped on an outstretched arm of the Misty Mountains, which rose impressively in the distance. Large rocks jutted out of the sloped ground, brush sprouting from the ground in scraggly clumps.<p>

Frodo and Sam sat side by side on a flat rock while Sam placed sausages on a pan over the fire. Gimli rested nearby, eyeing the juicy, crackling meat hungrily. Aragorn took another puff of his pipe as he observed Boromir, Merry and Pipping sparring, occasionally offering tips and encouragement to the hobbits.

It was an unusually pleasant day, with a calm breeze stirring the air and the sun casting down rays of warmth. Runíla was seated at the top of an enormous pillar of rock with her face angled towards the sun as she looked down on the Fellowship.

In the past two weeks, she had managed to redeem herself in the eyes of most of the Fellowship when a starving and impatient Pippin decided to pick some wild berries to tide him over until dinner. Runíla managed to wrestle the poisonous berries out of his grip just as he was about to pop one in his mouth, and ever since then, the Fellowship, with the exception of Boromir, had become much more friendly to her.

She turned her attention to Merry, Pippin and Boromir as they fought.

"One, two five. Good. Very good." Boromir called. As much as she didn't like him, Runíla had to admit that he knew how to handle a sword extremely well.

"Move your feet!" Aragorn said.

"You look good, Pippin." Merry grinned.

"Thanks." Pippin beamed.

"Faster!" ordered Boromir.

A low voice reached her ears as the hobbits and Boromir continued to spar. Runíla turned her attention to Gimli, who had just approached Gandalf.

"If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they're not, I'd say we were taking the long way round." said Gimli. "Gandlaf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria."

Runíla sat up straighter. She had not been through the Mines of Moria since the time of Nain II, which was many generations before Gimli. Lately, she had made an effort to steer clear of it. Rumors of dark things stirring underneath the mountain, restless and impatient, had reached her ears and it was most likely no longer safe.

"My cousin, Balin, would give us a royal welcome." Gimli continued.

Gandalf removed his pipe from his mouth and Runíla waited eagerly for his answer.

"No, Gimli," he finally answered. "I would not take the road through Moria unless I had no other choice."

Relief flooded through her body. As an elf, Runíla had difficulty remaining comfortable in underground spaces, instead preferring trees and fields.

Reassured, she turned to appreciate the spectacular view of the immense, snow capped mountains when something queer caught her eye; what appeared to be a small black cloud, nearly invisible to the human eye, was nearing them. Alert, she stood.

"Legolas!" she yelled, attracting some strange looks from the other members of the Fellowship who were used to her quiet, unsocial demeanor. The other elf looked up at her, surprised. Runíla pointed into the distance, and his eyes narrowed as he peered South.

She turned her attention to the strange mass once more, ignoring the sudden shouts and laughter coming from the hobbits, Boromir, and Aragorn. It was moving in a way that suggested it was something alive. It was now near enough that it was visible to the human eye, but Runíla still couldn't tell what it was.

Sam noticed the two elves intent on something in the distance.

"What's that?" he inquired.

"Nothing, it's just a whiff of cloud." huffed Gimli.

Boromir was the next to speak.

"It's moving fast... against the wind."

Legolas's eyes widened in realization and he turned towards Runíla, meeting her eye for a spit second before crying, "Crebain from Dunland!"

The Fellowship sprang into action.

"Hide!" Runíla yelled.

"Hurry!" bellowed Boromir.

Runíla slipped her swords into their sheath on her back and began scaling down the rock. Below her, the Fellowship were packing in a frenzy of activity. Sam dumped water on the fire, and they all began taking cover underneath rocks and bushes. Legolas cast a worried look up at a very obvious Runíla clinging to the rock before he ducked under a bush.

About a quarter of the way down, Runíla found a hidden crevice in the rock. The crows' caws were growing steadily louder as her fingers scrabbled for a hold and she desperately heaved herself into the fissure. Panting, she curled her legs in as far as they could into the cramped space, her body wedged tightly in the rock, one hand clutching her bow firmly.

The birds passed right over her, their wings flapping loudly. Their shrill caws reached an ear-splitting volume; Runíla pressed her hands against her ears and bit her lip to hold back a cry. The birds circled twice and were gone.

Runíla stretched her arms forward a bit, a ray on sun near the entrance falling across her fingertips. She half-expected one of the crows to appear and peck her fingers. Leaning forward a bit, she peered downwards. The Fellowship was beginning to emerge from hiding, gazing warily into the distance.

Runíla pulled herself forward so that her head and shoulders were free.

"Oi, Merry!" She called down. "Catch!" She tossed him her bow, which he luckily caught, and she was now free to use both hands for her descent. Her plan was to pull herself forward and sideways, and then be able to get a decent foothold.

Wiggling her body, she was now far enough out that she was dangerously on the edge. Several members of the Fellowship were now watching her progress. Now, tugging gently at her legs, which were now the farthest back in the rock crevice, she gasped. Her left foot refused to move, wedged firmly between the rock. The force of her tug sent her torso and upper legs over the edge, dangling from the rock, her left foot the only thing keeping her from plummeting headfirst onto the rocks below.

Breathing heavily, her scraped fingers desperately scrabbled for a hold upside-down. Panicked cries sounded from below, but the adrenaline pumping through Runíla blocked out every sound other than her panting. At last, her fingers slipped into a small gap in the rock.

She jerked her foot once; it didn't move. Another time; she thought she felt it shift, although it may just have been her frantic imagination. A third time; it definitely moved, because it was now at a less painful angle. And with a fourth, massive, wrench, her foot came free.

Clutching tighter than she ever thought possible, Runíla's legs swung down so she was right-side up. Her arms strained painfully at the jolt of supporting her full weight, and her body slammed forcefully against the rock. Gasping, she was motionless for a few moments as she recovered her breath. Then, slowly, with sore, trembling arms, she began moving downward.

She stumbled a bit when her feet hit solid ground, but regained her balance quickly.

"Here." Legolas handed Runíla her bow. "Are you alright?"

She nodded, surprised, and gave him a small, grateful smile. She wasn't used to being asked about her well-being from anyone other than Arwen or Elrond, and she wasn't quite sure how that made her feel.

Gandalf met her eyes questioningly, and Runíla nodded again, slinging her bow over her back.

He turned to the rest of the Fellowship.

"Spies of Saruman! The passage South is being watched. We must take the Pass of Caradhras."

The wizard gazed up at a towering, snowy mountain to the East.

And so the Fellowship's journey continued.


	10. Chapter 10

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 10**

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own LOTR, just Runíla.<p>

A/N: Here's Chapter 10! Woot Woot! (dandapanda, I hope I answered your question in the last chapter… )

Yeah, I've got nothing to say, other than, thanks, review and ENJOY!

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><p>The ten members of the Fellowship trudged up the snowy slope, (some more gracefully than others) wet and squinting from the glare of the sun reflecting from the snow. The farther up the Pass of Caradhras they slogged, the colder and windier it was becoming. The hobbits's cheeks and noses were already red with cold.<p>

Legolas and Gandalf led the group, followed by Merry, Pippin, Sam and Gimli. Boromir followed them, with Frodo and Aragorn behind him, while Runíla took up the rear. Their feet slipped in the wet snow, and most of them had taken to keeping their eyes down, watching carefully where they placed their feet.

Runíla was focused solely on the ground in front of her when a cry sounded from up ahead. Her head snapped up to see Frodo tumbling down to slope, finally halting in front of Aragorn.

"Frodo!" Aragorn rushed forward to help the hobbit stand. Panting, Frodo's hand instinctively flew to his chest where the Ring normally lay. The terrified look on his face told Runíla and Aragorn the worst. Slightly panicked, Runíla's eyes scanned the slope up ahead of a glint of gold.

But someone else spotted it just as she did.

"Boromir." Aragorn said quietly, a slightly threatening edge to his voice.

Boromir's eyes were completely fixated on the Ring as it hung before him, the chain clutched in his fist, a desperate, longing look in his eyes.

"It is a strange fate we should suffer so much fear and doubt…over so small a thing." He spoke softly, gently even. "Such a little thing..." Slowly, one of his hands reached out to touch it...

"Boromir!" said Aragorn sharply. Boromir abruptly tears his eyes from the small, gleaming circle of gold.

"Give the Ring to Frodo." Aragorn ordered.

As Boromir reluctantly trudged down the slope Runíla's hand gripped her sword hilt so hard that her knuckles turned white.

"As you wish." He said, holding it out to a tormented-looking Frodo, who instantly snatched it from Boromir and sliped it back around his neck. "I care not."

Runíla glared furiously at Boromir as he ruffled the hobbit's dark curls and turned back around to continue walking. Aragorn and Frodo followed after a moment's pause. Sighing, Runíla loosened her grip on the hilt of her sword and followed them onward.

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><p>As they climbed steadily higher, the weather worsened. It started out as a sharp, bitter wind and a few dark clouds, but since then, had developed into a fierce blizzard. As the snow banks grew, so did Runíla's doubts. The hobbits were huddled in their cloaks, trembling, as Boromir and Aragorn carried them.<p>

Gandalf led the way, using his staff to force his way through the snow that reached his waist. No one spoke; it would be extremely difficult to hear anyone over the shrieking wind as they fought the snow on a particularly narrow pass.

Runíla was following Legolas closer to the edge of the pass where they could walk on top of untouched snow. The cold did not affect them as severely as it did the others, but Runíla felt her nose growing a bit red as the wind swirled her hair around her face.

She was just thinking of asking Gandalf if they should turn back when a deep, echoing voice bellowed over the wind.

"Legolas!" She called, and he turned to face her, his eyes narrowed against the onslaught of wind and snow. "Do you hear that?"

He paused and inclined his head, frowning. Turning again, he ran ahead, Runíla just behind him. After listening hard for a moment, his eyes widened slightly.

"There is a fell voice on the air!" He shouted back to Gandalf.

"It's Saruman!" The wizard bellowed. A great rumbling echoed from above them. Runíla glanced up to see a mix of rocks, ice and snow plummeting towards them. The Fellowship shoved themselves against the wall, shielding their bodies from the falling stone.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain!" Aragorn yelled over the storm, his voice slightly hoarse. "Gandalf, we must turn back!"

"No!" Gandalf stepped onto the ledge, determined. "_Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho i 'ruith_!" The wizard bellowed, attempting to calm the mountain's savage anger. For a moment, the storm seemed to grow quieter, until another, deeper, louder chant boomed, and the vicious storm raged once more.

With a mighty _crack _seemed to jolt the mountain, a bright, jagged bolt of lightning struck the top of the mountain. Legolas leapt forward and yanked Gandalf back from the ledge. Runíla threw herself back against the wall once more as an immense heap of snow and ice crashed down on top of the Fellowship.

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><p>The blackness was suffocating her, she couldn't tell which way was up or down, she was frantically flailing her limbs to try and reach the surface, a way out, to fresh air - her fingers burst out of the snow and she immediately began scrambling to widen the hole her fingers made. Shoving her head up through the hole, Runíla gasped for breath as the wind stung her face. Lifting the rest of her body out of the snow, she saw Legolas helping some of the others out of the snow. She seized Aragorn's arm, heaving him up out of the snow and soon they were all clear of the snow.<p>

"We must get off the mountain!" yelled Boromir. "Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the West Road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!" shouted Aragorn.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain," Gimli said eagerly, "then let us go under it. Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Gandalf hesitated. There was an uncertainty in his eyes, but also the wild look of a desperate man. Runíla was not sure if he would be willing to lead the Fellowship through the Mines, but to keep traveling the Pass of Caradhras was equally as risky.

"Let the Ring bearer decide." Gandalf declared.

"We cannot stay here!" shouted Boromir. "This will be the death of the hobbits!"

Runíla took one glance at Merry and Pippin huddled together, faces pale white, and knew that this was true.

"Frodo?" Gandalf turned to the hobbit.

"We will go through the Mines." the Ring bearer answered.

Runíla's heart sank, and, judging by the look in his eyes, so did Gandalf's.

"So be it." He said grimly, and the Fellowship turned back down the mountain, fighting their way through the storm.


	11. Chapter 11

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 11**

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><p>Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with LOTR, just Runíla.<p>

A/N: Thanks a bunch to Glory Bee for reviewing! Your complements mean a lot.

I am quite excited; my username shows up in this chapter!

Sorry, this would have been up earlier today, but Hurricane Sandy took down my power for a while.

Please review, and thanks for reading!

Onwards with the story!

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><p>The Fellowship passed South towards the Mines of Moria, and with each step, Runíla's heart grew heavy with dread. Gimli, however, was thrilled, and often could be found describing the wonders of the Mines in great detail to anyone who would listen.<p>

The journey from the Pass of Caradhras was not long, and they were all relieved to find that no forces of Saruman hindered their travels. It was a great deal warmer, to the joy of the hobbits, but Runíla found that the closer they got to the Mines, a cloudy mist accompanied by a sharp chill plagued the air.

The evening was growing dark as the Fellowship wandered farther and farther into the ruins of a crumbled aqueduct, their breath rising in gray spirals about their heads. They were nearing the West Door, the Door of Durin. Runíla passed Gandalf and Frodo, who were conversing in hushed tones, and studied them curiously. She had noticed that Frodo had grown significantly less social and had taken to keeping to himself since the departure from Rivendell. However, she didn't think much of it, assuming it was the pressure of bearing the Ring. She had not yet sensed its growing power.

Just ahead of her, Gimli gasped, astonished.

"The Walls... of Moria!" He breathed, awed.

A massive cliff face rose to an incredible height above them, so high that Runíla was forced to crane her neck to try and make out the top. Mist cloaked the upper part of the wall, shrouding the peak from view. The rock was a rough, dark grey, ominous and striking.

The Fellowship made for the wall and began to follow it, one after another. Runíla walked behind Legolas at the end of the group, trailing a hand against the uneven rock in the hopes of stumbling across the entrance. A murky pool lay completely undisturbed to their right, twisted, dead branches looming over the water.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed." Gimli's voice floated back to her from in front of Legolas, a hint of pride detectable in it.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten." said Gandalf.

"Why doesn't that surprise me." Legolas murmured.

Runíla smirked and he turned to look at her, the corners of his mouth twisted up in a small smile. Gimli gave a dissatisfied grunt, but kept silent.

A gasp and a splash came from up ahead as Frodo accidentally stepped in the pool. He pulled his leg out immediately, glancing nervously out over the inky water.

Gandalf advanced towards a spot of the wall between two contorted, dead trees. His hand brushed gently over the rock face. Runíla observed faint, silvery lines partly hidden by years of dirt curling gracefully beneath his hand.

"Now, let's see. Ithildin - It mirrors only starlight... and moonlight." He murmured.

The nine others watched him intently. He looked up at the sky above just as the moon emerged from behind a smoky cloud. At once, the vague, silver lines glowed brightly with a brilliant white light. They revealed a high, elegant archway supported by two columns with a radiant star at the center, writing curved around the arch.

Gandalf tapped the letters with his staff as he read them aloud.

"It reads, "The Doors of Durin - Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter."

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry piped up.

"Oh, it is quite simple." replied Gandalf, who seemed fairly confident, to the relief of most of the group. "If you are a friend, you speak the password, and the doors will open."

He placed the tip of his staff against the star.

"_Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen_!" He commanded.

Runíla braced herself for the doors to open dramatically at Gandalf's impressive order, but was stunned when they simply remained closed. Gandalf stepped back and raised his hands towards the doors.

"_Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen_." He said.

Again, the doors remained firmly shut.

"Nothing's happening." said Pippin.

That earned him a cross look from Gandalf, who then began pushing against the sealed doors in the feeble hope that they would open to him.

"I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves.. Men... and Orcs." He grumbled.

"What are you going to do, then?" asked Pippin.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said hotly. "And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words."

Pippin looked slightly ashamed as Gandalf focused on the doors again. After a few minutes, Runíla sighed and sank down, resting her back against the wall. Most of the others had also seated themselves on the pebbly shore of the pond. Whispers penetrated the silence, along with Gandalf's muttered spells.

Legolas walked over and stood next to her, leaning against the wall with one hand resting on his bow. Runíla sat stiffly, unsure if she was supposed to speak.

"Do you think he will be able to open the doors?" he asked quietly.

"Oh yes," she replied, her tentative voice barely over a murmur. "I do not doubt that. It is just a question of when."

"I hope you're not suggesting that we may have to spend several days here."

"I don't know, I think it's quite lovely." she said dryly. "I may consider it to be a spot for my permanent residence."

Legolas chuckled, and Runíla grinned. Suddenly, it occurred to her that she was now much more relaxed, and the words spilled out of her mouth with ease. At this observation, she smiled a bit.

"I cannot say I approve of this." he sighed, gazing in the direction of the doors. "I would much rather be among trees than walls of stone."

"I feel the same." Runíla said bitterly. "The air here is stale and rotten. You never know what's behind you in the dark."

They were silent for a moment. A sudden gust of chilled wind shifted Runíla's hair, setting her on edge.

"So I suppose your permanent residence here is out of the question." Legolas said softly.

Glancing up at him, their eyes met, and the two elves erupted into slightly muffled laughter. Stifling her laughs with one sleeve, Runíla took no notice of the curious looks that the rest of the Fellowship gave them.

They quieted down soon enough.

"I don't know," Runíla sighed, "with a bit of work it might be all right."

They both grinned again. Neither of them spoke, they just sat by the cliff face, enjoying each other's company as the deepening darkness of night stretched over them.

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><p>The soft tinkle of a bridle and the crunch of hooves against the rock caught Runíla's attention. She tore her eyes from the glassy pool surface to see Aragorn slipping off the bridle of Bill, the stout pony that had accompanied them since Rivendell.<p>

"The Mines are no place for a pony, even one so brave as Bill." said Aragorn.

Poor Sam seemed absolutely miserable as he said his good-bye.

"Buh-bye, Bill." He said glumly.

"Go on, Bill. Go on." Aragorn tapped the pony lightly on his rear, and the pony turned back and was swallowed by the mist. "Don't worry, Sam. He knows the way home."

To Runíla's right, Merry wound up his arm and threw a small stone as far into the pool as he could. Pippin, who looked terribly bored, copied him, but Aragorn's hand caught his arm.

"Do not disturb the water." He spoke, his tone hushed, and Pippin and Merry let the stones slip from their hands and back onto the riverbed, their faces dejected.

"Oh, it's useless!" cried Gandalf as he threw himself heavily onto the ground beside Frodo.

But Runíla was not paying them any attention. Her narrowed eyes, along with Aragorn and Boromir's, were focused intently on a small ripple traveled over the surface of the water. She nudged Legolas and gestured to it, and a slight frown grew on his face. To her right, Frodo stood up and examined the writing.

"It's a riddle." He realized, but most of the Fellowship were still studying the ripples, which had begun to increase in size, sloshing slightly onto the shore. Runíla rose abruptly, one hand cautiously wrapped around her bow.

"Speak, "friend", and enter." Frodo emphasized the clue differently. "Gandalf, what's the Elvish word for friend?"

The gloomy water continued to shudder.

"_Mellon._" Gandalf spoke.

Runíla spun around as a heavy grinding sound came from her right. The doors were slowly opening, the rumble reverberating through the air. One by one, the Fellowship entered the Mines.

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><p>Not very much light came through the doors; it was just enough to make out vague, gray outlines of stone pillars and steps. A wall of seemingly solid darkness blocked the passage forward. She coughed slightly when she first inhaled the musty, damp air and warily fitted an arrow into her bow.<p>

"I never thought dwarves were the kind for riddles." Legolas muttered from behind her

"Neither did I." She replied.

"Soon, Master Elf," said Gimli from behind Legolas, "you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves! Roaring fires, malt beer, ripe meat off the bone. This, my friend, is the home of my cousin, Balin."

Legolas made no comment.

The knocking of Gandalf's staff echoed through the chamber as he strode forward at the head of the Fellowship. He stopped for a moment, wedging a rough-hewn crystal into the tip of his staff. Blowing on it gently, it soon emitted a white light, revealing most of their surroundings.

Almost the entire floor was coated with grime and littered with dark, misshapen objects. She nudged one with her foot, and Runíla's toe met something hard. A foul stench tainted the air, and the chamber had a deadly stillness about it.

"And they call it a mine. A mine!" scoffed Gimli.

But as she bent down to study one of the many objects strewn across the room in disarray, horrified realization crashed through Runíla's mind.

"This is no mine." spoke Boromir, disgusted. "It's a tomb!"

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><p><span>Translations:<span>

_Annon Edhellen, edro hi ammen! - _Gate of the Elves, open now for me!

_Fennas Nogothrim, lasto beth lammen. - _Doorway of the Dwarf-folk, listen to the word of my tongue.

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><p>One last reminder to review!<p>

Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 12**

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing here, except for Runíla. Everything else belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.<p>

A/N: Hello! This chapter isn't as long as the others have been, but it's sufficiently more action-packed. This is only my second time writing a fight scene, so I would **_LOVE_** some feedback on what you guys liked for the future, good or bad.

Just review! I would love some constructive criticism!

Thanks for reading!

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><p>Runíla turned her head, and everywhere she looked, she saw death; skeletons upon skeletons, arrows protruding from rusted armor, skulls bearing their grimy teeth in terrible grins.<p>

Gimli's tortured wail echoed throughout the hall.

Legolas bent over a rotting corpse and jerked an arrow from its ribcage.

"Goblins!" He spat, notching an arrow into his bow while Aragorn and Boromir unsheathed their swords. Runíla eyed the shadowy corners of the chamber, her bow pulled back as far as possible, ready to fire.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan." said Boromir. "We should never have come here. Now get out of here. Get out!"

They began to hurry back when Sam, Merry and Pippin shouted, "Frodo!"

Frodo was yanked to the ground and pulled back as a slick, gray tentacle snaked around his ankle and pulled him back.

"Strider!" Sam yelled, turning back.

"Help!" cried Frodo.

Runíla began to run back, replacing her bow with her dual swords. Sam had drawn his short sword and was chopping frantically at the tentacle.

"Get off him!" He bellowed. "Strider!"

Fear, not only for the Ring, but for the young hobbit, seized Runíla. She sprang towards the doors before anyone else as the three other hobbits fought to keep the monster from dragging Frodo down.

"Aragorn!" Merry cried.

But just as she reached the doorway, the tentacles released Fordo and slithered back down into the murky depths of the pool. Frodo lay on the shore, panting, as the other hobbits stood over him. Runíla stopped short and peered into the pool after the monster, but the surface of the water was too solid to make out anything moving below.

Then, as suddenly as it vanished, three times as many tentacles exploded out of the water. They slapped Merry, Pippin, and Sam to the side and yanked Frodo up by the ankle, dangling him precariously over the water.

"Frodo!" cried Merry.

Runíla lunged forward, now knee deep in the water, and slashed at a tentacle with one of her swords. Another swung at her head and she ducked, lashing out at it as she straightened up. Behind her, Legolas appeared in the doorway and fired, his arrow piercing a tentacle winding around Frodo's face.

"Strider!" shrieked Frodo, flailing madly above the water.

With a yell, Aragorn charged out of the door, closely followed by Boromir. Runíla saw a tentacle whip towards Aragorn's head and quickly pulled one of her throwing knives out of her belt, sending it flying at the tentacle.

The monster hurled Frodo around, its head emerged, dripping with water, and he began to near the creature's wide open mouth, complete with teeth the size of one of Runíla's swords. Its face was broad and muddy gray, with untamable, wide-set black eyes. Runíla hurriedly stowed her swords in their sheaths and fit an arrow to her bow, aiming for the creature's eye. At that moment, a fat tentacle lunged towards her, catching her hard in the stomach. She keeled over, gasping, as her arrow soared off target, sticking into the monster's lip, and her bow left her hand, landing on the bank. The tentacle changed direction and flew at her again, but this time she pulled another knife out of her belt, stepped to the side, and thrust it into the tentacle. It yanked her off her feet, tossing her closer towards the head of the monster. Her body was dunked underwater as her knife flew out of the tentacle and spiraled off into the water. Runíla came up choking, water pouring out of her mouth, but she reached for her swords again as she stood.

The water now reached above her waist. She fought her way back, twirling her swords and jabbing them at any tentacle that crossed her path.

With one mighty swing, Aragorn sliced through the tentacle that held Frodo. The hobbit hurtled towards the water, and Runíla quickly sheather her swords, freeing her arms just in time for him to land in them.

"Into the Mines!" bellowed Gandalf.

Runíla struggled through the water to the bank.

"Legolas!" She yelled as a monstrous, hand-like tentacle whipped towards them. Aragorn, Boromir, and Runíla rushed to the doors as Legolas took aim.

"Into the cave!" shouted Aragorn.

The elf fired, his arrow landing deep into the monster's eye. It let out a piercing roar that seemed to shake the earth as Legolas turned and ran to the doors, snatching something up from the bank as he ran.

The Fellowship sped deeper into the cave as the sea creature's tentacles tore viciously at the doors, shoving them shut. Stone slabs crashed down from the ceiling and walls near the door, the chamber shuddering at the impact. Great clouds of dust billowed forth as they slammed to the floor, blocking off the door and rendering the hall pitch-black and gloomy.

Heavy breathing was the only sound filling the chamber as the dust and rock settled.

"We now have but one choice." echoed Gandalf darkly, his staff now emitting the same glowing light as before, throwing light onto the Fellowship's pale, frightened faces.

"We must face the long, dark of Moria. Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs, in the deep places of the world." he warned, starting forward, the tapping of his staff against the stone ringing throughout the hall. "Quietly, now. It is a four-day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence goes unnoticed."

So the Fellowship started forward into the deep darkness of Moria, stepping carefully though the bodies of the dead into the frightening unknown.


	13. Chapter 13

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 13**

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing, just Runíla.<p>

A/N: Thanks to dandapanda for reviewing! And thanks to ILoveReadingAndWriting for your review and tips, they really helped. :)

Nothing particularly special in this chapter, just following events in Moria.

Enjoy!

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><p>They were being followed.<p>

Runíla realized it not long after they set off through the mines; the soft patting of feet, the whistle of a raggedy breath gave their pursuer away. Often, out of the corner of her eye, she caught the flicker of light off of large, luminous eyes behind the Fellowship.

As soon as she noticed this, she caught up to Gandalf and whispered her findings in his ear. To her surprise, he simply nodded and gave her a small smile, saying, "Yes, that is Gollum."

"But he could not have escaped!" She breathed. She knew the creature was being held in Barad-Dûr, surely he was dying of the torture if he was not already dead! Sauron would have easily caught him if he attempted to break out of his prison.

"I do not believe he did." said Gandalf, his brow furrowed.

He continued on, leaving Runíla feeling extremely uneasy.

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><p>The mine smelled of death. The Fellowship did not encounter many skeletons as they moved further in, but Runíla's keen senses still picked up on the stale stench of rotting flesh.<p>

They traveled through rough-hewn chambers, up steep, treacherous stairs, and on thin, winding passages that led them on a complicated route. Runíla did not like the hard feel of the stone underneath her feet or the musty air that choked her with every breath. Often her mind wandered to the forests, full of the thrum of hidden life, the whisper of wind ruffling the branches. _There is no color here_, she thought bitterly as the Fellowship crossed a large cave on a narrow, swerving pathway. _Just stone. Hard, rough, unyielding stone. _With a sigh, she continued on, clutching her bow firmly as they passed a dark drop off. She had nearly lost it once, and was not planning on losing it for good.

When fighting the sea creature, she had dropped it on the shore and forgot about it, until Legolas handed it to her when they began walking. He had picked it up running into the mines, and she was surprised, but extremely grateful, and thanked him.

Runíla brushed her hand gently against a rough, rusted chain that fell into the darkness to her right, and it tinkled slightly.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold... or jewels." said Gandalf, one hand resting on the rock wall. "... but Mithril."

He aimed his staff down into the depths of the mine, and despite her uneasiness, Runíla found herself leaning forward, curious. The mine stretched down what seemed to be endlessly, chains dangling down and disappearing into the depths like a fisherman's lines. Ladders provided access to platforms and entrances sculpted into the rock. It was, undeniably, extremely impressive, and Runíla soon found herself having a new appreciation for the engineering of the dwarves.

"Bilbo had a shirt of Mithril rings that Thorin gave him." Gandalf continued.

"Oh, that was a kingly gift." Gimli gasped in appreciation.

"Yes!" agreed Gandalf. "I never told him, but its worth was greater than the value of the Shire."

The ten companions continued up two flights of nearly vertical stairs, one flanked by tombs. They reached the top and found that three, almost identical, doorways lay before them. Runíla looked to Gandalf, expecting him to make his way towards one, but he did not move, he simply examined each doorway in turn.

"I have no memory of this place." He said worriedly.

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><p>The Fellowship sat resting while Gandalf perched on a rock above them, alone. Runíla pulled one leg up to her chest and let the other stretch out on the ground in front of her.<p>

She was watching Frodo. He sat silently while the other hobbits whispered amongst themselves. Since they entered the mine, she had begun to feel an urge, soft at first, but sometimes desperate, to seize the hobbit and throttle him. It startled her, prompting her to stay as far away from him as possible. She longed to catch even a glimpse of the thin chain that held the Ring. Soon, however, she shook her head and thought of the Ring's evil, corrupting nature. She thought of the men, women and children Sauron's armies had brutally murdered, the lives he had torn apart, and she was soon itching to be out on the battlefield again, the Ring gone from her mind.

Runíla observed him as he peered into the darkness behind them, and saw his eyes narrow and then widen at the sight of something. Scrambling up, he hastened over to Gandalf to talk to him. _He must have seen Gollum, _She thought as she watched him speak to Gandalf. He looked horrified and disgusted as Gandalf spoke to him, and then his expression turned to that of sorrow, one who had too much responsibility too young and was forced to grow up before their time.

She had no time to feel pity for the Ring bearer, however, for just after that, Gandalf spoke.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, looking towards one of the doors. "It's that way."

Runíla shot to her feet.

"He's remembered!" cried Merry, standing.

They began to file towards the descending staircase. Gandalf went first, placing his hat on his head and leading the way with his lit staff.

"No, but the air does not smell so foul down here." He said, patting Merry's shoulder. "If in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Gandalf leant heavily on his staff, wheezing slightly, and soon set off down the stairs. As she followed them, Runíla smiled softly to herself.

He was right. The air did not smell as stale here.

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><p>The Fellowship did not walk long until they reached another chamber that made the others seem like mere holes in the rock. Crumbled remnants of pillars were strewn about in pieces, but Runíla knew the hall they had reached.<p>

"Let me risk a little more light." said Gandalf, raising his staff so it cast light out before them.

Runíla had difficulty holding back a gasp as towering pillars came into focus, supporting high, arched ceilings. Countless columns stretched forward in endless rows, the height of their bases easily surpassing the tip of Gandalf's pointed hat.

"Behold: the ancient realm and dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf said.

It was a forlorn sight without the torches, laughter, and bustle of life that Runíla had first seen it with long ago, but it was still impressive nevertheless.

"Now there's an eye opener and no mistake." breathed Sam, and Runíla silently agreed with him.

They slowly began winding their way through the pillars, until a chamber appeared through the columns on their right, a ray of bright sunlight illuminating its interior.

With a cry, Gimli raced to it.

"Gimli!" called Gandalf.

But the dwarf paid him no attention, and proceeded into the chamber. Mutilated corpses were scattered about and parts of the walls were in pieces, but Gimli knelt before a tomb in the hall's center, upon which the ray of light fell.

Sobs racked Gimli's body as Boromir placed a comforting hand on Gimli's shoulder.

"'Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.'" Gandalf translated the runes etched onto the tomb. "He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Gimli wailed and moaned, his head resting on the edge of the tomb. Gandalf handed his hat and staff to Pippin. Wrenching a massive book from the hands of a skeleton, he blew the dust off and opened it, the spine crackling. By the tomb, Gimli began some sort of prayer in Khuzdul, the dwarf language.

Legolas glanced at Runíla before turning to Aragorn.

"We must move on, we cannot linger!" He stressed, anxious. Aragorn looked at Runíla and she nodded in agreement.

"'They have taken the bridge... and the second hall.'" read Gandalf.

Gimli's cries ceased, and he looked up, his face stony.

"'We have barred the gates... but cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes.'"

Runíla shifted uncomfortably as Gandalf continued reading. The rest of the Fellowship looked extremely uneasy, if not frightened. Pippin backed away nervously.

"'Drums... drums... in the deep.'"

Gandalf turned the page, a dark, smudged bloodstain streaking the page.

"'We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark.'"

He paused.

"'We cannot get out... _They are coming_!"

A bang echoed though the hall. Startled, Gandalf whirled around to look at Pippin, who was standing next to a now headless corpse. Guilt was written all over the hobbit's face as to corpse teetered backwards and crashed down the well. A chain and bucket slipped down after it, clinking and crashing all the way down. Pippin winced with each sound as if it gave him pain. It finally ceased, and most of the Fellowship relaxed slightly.

Runíla sighed. Snapping the book shut, Gandalf's face contorted in fury.

"Fool of a Took!" He snarled. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" He snatched his hat and staff from the miserable-looking hobbit. Furiously, the wizard turned his back to Pippin.

"We shou - " Runíla began, but her words were cut off by a distant sound.

_Boom._


	14. Chapter 14

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 14**

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><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I just own Runíla.<p>

Thanks to ThalionwenTurweitheil (I hope I spelled that right) for your review! It meant a lot. :D

Fairly long chapter today! If you have any suggestions, please let me know!

I would still love some feedback on the fighting, I'm new to this!

Thanks!

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><p>With each heavy <em>thud<em> of the faraway drum, Runíla felt her panic mount higher and higher. The drum pulsated heavily from deep in to core of the mines, like the mountain's heartbeat. One hand reached back to her quiver, ready to draw an arrow if needed. The hobbits glanced around, panicked, while the others placed a hand on their weapons.

"Frodo!" cried Sam, his wide eyes glued to Frodo's sword.

The Ring bearer unsheathed his sword enough to reveal that the blade was glowing a bright, fluorescent blue.

"Orcs!" spat Legolas.

They acted without hesitation. Boromir rushed to the wooden door and glanced out, but quickly pulled his head back in when several arrows thudded into the wood near him. Runíla and Aragorn ran to the door.

"Get behind Gandalf!" she ordered the hobbits. "Stay back!"

Together, Aragorn, Boromir, and Runíla shoved the doors closed. As the doors slammed shut, an enormous roar boomed from outside.

"They have a cave troll." said Boromir.

Legolas tossed Runíla and Aragorn axes with thick, wooden shafts, which they jammed into the door in an attempt to blockade the door from the incoming orcs. The pounding of footsteps and the shrieking war cries grew thunderous as Runíla forced a spear into the door. Drawing her bow, she stepped back and trained her eye on the door, her eyes narrowed and brow furrowed in concentration.

The four hobbits held their short swords up anxiously, huddled behind Gandalf, whose sword was easily longer than any of the hobbits were tall. Gimli heaved himself up onto the tomb of his cousin, brandishing two axes fiercely, snarling.

"Let them come!" he growled. "There is one dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!"

Shrieks and clangs of weapons pounding against shields clamoured from outside the door. Weapons hacked at the worn wood, chopping small chunks off. Axe heads and sword tips poked through, but neither Runíla, Legolas or Aragorn could get a clear shot yet.

Then, a menacing, curved axe head dug through, and Legolas fired. A shriek of pain pierced the air, and his arrow vanished as the orc fell. Runíla fired immediately as the next orc took its place.

With the crack of splintering wood, the door caved inwards and orcs flooded in. The three archers fired arrow after arrow now that they had numerous targets. Gimli and Boromir met the onslaught early on. With a ferocious cry, Gandalf leapt forward into the fray, followed by the hobbits.

Backing up, Runíla slung her bow onto her back and drew her swords and hurdled towards the nearest orc. She knocked its sword away and slashed it across the throat;it gurgled; thick, black blood spurting forth, and fell. One of her swords passed easily through the unprotected back of an unsuspecting orc while the other parried a forceful blow from another that rushed toward her with a savage cry. Runíla yanked her sword from the other orcs back and swung it clean through its neck, the cry ceasing abruptly.

Orcs continued to flood in, endless numbers filling the chamber.

But her attention was suddenly draw upwards as a hideous green-gray creature rammed through the doorway, bellowing, a heavy mace dragging on the ground. Chains linked the collar around its neck to the hands of a muscular orc. It had very little neck, small holes in its face for nostrils, and pointed teeth dripping with drool. It let out another deafening roar as one of Legolas's arrows pierced its shoulder, but it seemed to be nothing but an annoyance to the savage creature.

Sam was frozen with fear and shock, gaping at the creature. It looked down at him and swung its mace over its head, ready to smash the hobbit. Runíla dashed forward, easily slaying the orc that held the chain with a slash to its chest. Then, she grabbed the chain and yanked it, hard, drawing the troll's attention to her. Its meaty face contorted in a snarl. It took a lumbering step towards her. She heaved the chain up over her head and threw it around. It swung high enough to wrap around the troll's neck and flew back towards Runíla. It was heavy and stung her hands, but she caught it, and swung it again. The chain was now looped tightly around the beast's neck, and she yanked, leaning back as far as she could, feet scrabbling against the ground. The tightened chain choked the cave troll, and its fleshy fingers tore at its neck.

Its bellow was stifled by the chain as the troll lifted up its mace again and swung it towards her. Runíla had no choice but to drop the chain and dive backwards to avoid the massive weapon. Gimli caught its attention by swinging his axe into its shoulder.

The stench of orc and sound of labored breathing became stronger behind her. Runíla whirled around. Hopping to the side, she sliced the orc's wrist off, its sword clattering to the ground. She finished it off with a swipe across its face, disfiguring its features.

As the Fellowship fought, more and more bodies of orcs riddled the ground among the dwarf skeletons. Two orcs advanced towards her, and she slowly backed up, her swords a blur as she fought them off. She took another step back and her foot landed on something slightly squishy, and she almost lost her balance. Her lip curled as warm orc blood soaked through her boot. Ducking, she dodged one blade and struck out, slicing deep into one's thigh. While it crumpled, she spun forward, and straightened up, now behind the remaining orc. Before it could realize her movements, one of her swords was buried in its back.

After pushing the limp body off her blade, she looked out over the battle. The clash of metal rang through the chamber, along with the frequent twang of Legolas's bowstring and the clang of Sam's pots and pans. Balin's tomb was now partially in pieces, and the cave troll was still wreaking havoc. The Fellowship, however, was holding their own. But with the steady flow of orcs, it was only so long before they were overcome.

Runíla just caught the silver glint of Boromir's sword between the bodies of numerous orcs. He was pressed up against the wall, and they were slowly beginning to gain an advantage on him. In a flash, two of the few throwing knives she had left was whipped out of her belt and sunken to the hilt in the nape of one orc's neck, the other in another orc's back. He fought the rest off and looked at Runíla. She sent him a sharp nod, and turned to the cave troll.

The troll swung its chain at Legolas, the nimble elf dodging the blows. It swung again, the chain wrapping itself around a pillar. Legolas placed a foot on the chain to secure it, and leapt onto the troll's back. Standing on the troll's shoulders, he fired into its head, and vaulted off.

Moving forward, Runíla swiped her swords in an x shape across one orcs chest. She parried another's sword and whipped her foot up, hitting it in the gut. The orc keeled over and she shoved it to the ground, stabbing it in the back.

Aragorn's voice caught her attention over the sound of battle.

"Frodo!" He called.

Runíla lifted her head to see the troll cornering Frodo behind a pillar. Aragorn desperately tried to fight his way to him, but there were too many orcs. Runíla took down three, hardly paying attention to what she was doing. Alarmed, her eyes were trained to the hobbit. The troll bellowed right in his face, and Frodo fell. It grabbed him and yanked him up, dragging him forward.

"Aragorn?!" he cried. "Aragorn!"

Aragorn struggled through the orcs, his chest heaving. Runíla stabbed another orc in the gut, black blood now thickly coating the blades of her swords.

"Frodo!" he yelled.

The hobbit bravely sliced the troll's hand with his sword. It dropped Frodo, who, luckily, did not have a long fall. The cave troll stared at its hand, almost surprised. Frodo lay where he landed, exhausted.

Then, to the Fellowship's utter horror, the troll lifted its mace and prepared to pulverize Frodo. Runíla fought madly, but Aragorn reached him first. With a yell, he thrust a spear into the cave troll's chest, digging into the skin but not quite penetrating it. It kept the troll at bay for several moments, long enough for Merry and Pippin to begin to launch rocks at its head.

But the frustrated creature sent Aragorn flying across the chamber with a single swipe of its arm, like one would a fly. He slammed against the stone wall and lay facedown, unmoving. Frodo, panicking, scurried to his side and shook him, trying to wake him up.

Runíla fought tooth and nail, practically a red blur, but wave after wave of orcs kept challenging her. She struck them down without too much trouble, but they kept coming.

The troll lumbered over to Frodo, who tried to scramble away. In one last desperate attempt to help him, Runíla pulled out the last throwing knife she had left and aimed. It landed right on target, sinking well into the troll's eye. But it made no difference.

Frodo began to crawl away, terrified. With a pained, earth-shaking roar, the troll blocked Frodo's path and tossed him back. Cornered, Frodo groaned feebly as the troll impaled its spear in the hobbit's chest.

The entire Fellowship looked on in shock as Frodo's body slumped lifelessly against the wall. Crying out, Merry and Pippin threw themselves onto the troll's shoulders, jabbing it repeatedly with their swords.

With an air of despair, the Fellowship fought on furiously to reach their fallen companion. As she faced the leering orcs before her, Runíla's hopelessness bubbled into pure hatred. Snarling, her swords whistled through the air, slicing off limbs and discovering weak points in armor. She skewered one in the throat. Before it even hit the ground, her other sword severed another's arm and speared it in the back. She stepped over their corpses and rushed to help Gandalf and Gimli with the troll.

Merry had been flung off and was on the ground, but Pippin was still fiercely stabbing the troll. Runíla slashed the troll's left leg and ran behind it to do the same to the other leg avoiding its poor eyesight. She saw Legolas fit an arrow into his bow, releasing as Pippin thrust his sword one final time into the troll's head. It reared its ugly head back in a monstrous roar of pain. The arrow flew perfectly, boring through the troll's upper mouth and into its brain mid-roar.

Dumbly, its hand groped around its mouth and it began to sway. After one deep, prolonged moan, the troll buckled and fell to the ground, shaking the floor, and moved no more.


	15. Chapter 15

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 15**

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><p>Disclaimer: The only thing I own here is Runíla.<p>

A/N: This chapter is going to be a bit shorter than the rest, just to match things up for the coming chapter. I am sad that the end of the Fellowship of the Ring is nearing! :(

**Please **review and enjoy!

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><p>Runíla fell to her knees at the feet of the small hobbit. The Fellowship gathered around his limp body, silent, their faces pale with shock. No one dared voice the uncertainty they all felt at that moment.<p>

"Oh no." breathed Aragorn, bending down at Frodo's side.

It occurred to Runíla then, as he was keeled over, completely still, just how small and frail the young hobbit was.

Aragorn gently rolled him over. To everyone's astonishment, Frodo gave a slight moan and opened his eyes, gasping for breath, but most certainly alive.

Runíla gave an astounded start. Sam, awestruck, looked up at Gandalf.

"He's alive!" he gasped.

Gandalf simply sighed, looking immensely relieved. His eyes softened as he looked down upon the Ring bearer.

"I'm alright," Frodo panted. "I'm not hurt."

The corners of Runíla's mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"You should be dead!" said Aragorn, thunderstruck. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

That much was true. Runíla ran her hand over the spear. It was almost twice as tall as her with a rigid, strong shaft.

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye." Gandalf said mysteriously.

Slowly, Frodo unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt. He pulled it back, revealing a glittering shirt of mail underneath.

"Mithril!" said Gimli, impressed. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

"Gandalf." Runíla said suddenly. She jerked her head towards the door, where footsteps and shrieks were beginning to grow louder. "We need to leave."

The wizard nodded, his face stern but slightly drained.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" He cried.

They scrambled up and dashed out of the chamber. Orcs scurried behind them in the dimly lit chamber as they hurtled between the massive pillars. Some emerged from the ground or scuttled out of the ceiling and down the columns like massive insects to join the chase. The enormous horde grew into a mass of mottled gray skin and roughly made weapons. They circled the Fellowship, hunched and leering. Runíla's swords were drawn and ready, flashing dangerously. One of the orcs hissed aggressively, and she snarled back. The ten members of the Fellowship stood in a circle, back to back, weapons out. Runíla found herself between Pippin and Legolas.

"This is a prime example of why I avoid caves." She said to Legolas, whose bow was pulled back to its limit. He gave a small smile at her comment, but before he could reply, the far end of the hall was illuminated in a fiery red. A deep rumble resounded, and the orcs panicked. They darted about, shrieking, diving back into their holes and scaling back up the pillars. The Fellowship soon stood alone in the chamber.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked Gandalf, horrified.

The wizard did not respond, closing his eyes and focusing hard. The sound thundered throughout the hall again.

"Mithrandir?" Runíla asked carefully.

He opened his eyes.

"A Balrog - a demon of the ancient world." He answered darkly.

Runíla closed her mouth sharply and cast an uneasy glance towards the brilliant red light. No amount of orcs could rival the force of one of Morgoth's most powerful weapons, and certainly not the Fellowship. The Watcher in the Water was like an orc compared to this. Legolas cast a fearful look at the pillars that caught the light. He met Runíla's eye, but she looked away quickly. Another growl sounded, and she knew that they could tarry no longer.

"This foe is beyond any of you." Gandalf said bitterly. "Run!"

They sprinted towards a doorway at the end of the hall. Runíla stopped at the edge of the doorway, guiding the hobbits through before racing after them.

"Quickly!" cried Gandalf.

The poor hobbits were running with every ounce of speed they had in them. Hurtling down a passage, Boromir was the first to hasten down a flight of steps. It was almost too late when he saw the last steps had crumbled off. Losing his balance, he desperately tried to throw himself back but could not help teetering on the edge of the void. Legolas dashed forward and snatched him, pulling Boromir back from the edge and nearly falling over in the process. Boromir's torch spiraled down and was lost to the depths of the darkness below.

Runíla placed a warning hand on Frodo's shoulder to stop him from going any further towards the edge as the hobbits followed. Gandalf and Aragorn brought up the rear. The old wizard looked worn and frenzied as he leaned against the wall for a desperate moment's rest.

"Gandalf!" said Aragorn.

"Lead them on, Aragorn." ordered Gandalf. "The bridge is near!"

The Ranger made to move closer to the wizard, but he was roughly shoved away.

"Do as I say!" barked Gandalf.

Aragorn searched the wizards face, looking pained and baffled at Gandalf's order.

"Swords are no more use here!" Gandalf cried.

Runíla's ears rung with another roar even louder than the first. Bolting down several more flights of steps, they were forced to halt again. A wide gap where stairs had broken off revealed the rugged rock faces below. Without casting even the slightest glance downwards, Runíla leapt lightly across, followed by Legolas.

"Gandalf!" Legolas beckoned to the wizard.

Gandalf jumped and was steadied by Legolas. Runíla's head whipped around as an arrow whistled through the arrow and bounced off the rock by her foot. Drawing her bow, she aimed at one of the dark, hunched figures on a faraway ledge. She fired, and the orc toppled from the ledge. Its replacement was quickly taken down by Legolas.

Runíla had just released her third arrow when Boromir grabbed Merry and Pippin and leapt across the divide. She reloaded, let loose, and saw another orc tumble down.

"Sam!" yelled Aragorn. He launched the hobbit across the gap and Sam landed safely in Boromir's arms. Aragorn went to do the same to Gimli, but the dwarf held up a hand in protest.

"Nobody tosses a dwarf!" He growled, and bounded over. His feet just landed at the edge of the stair. Another one of Runíla's arrows embedded itself in an orc's forehead as the dwarf scrambled on the edge. Legolas snatched the end of his beard as he began to fall back.

"Not the beard!" Gimli bellowed, but Legolas heaved him up.

Several steps crumbled off on the other side as another orc fell victim to Runíla's aim. Aragorn pushed Frodo back up the steps and hauled himself up, narrowly avoiding falling down. They stood and looked over at the rest of the Fellowship and the gap that separated them. Runíla tried to keep an eye on them as she loaded another arrow into her bow.

Aragorn placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder.

"Steady." He instructed. "Hold on!"

The red glow in the entrance was growing brighter, and Runíla felt the temperature slowly increase. The Balrog drew nearer, stone cracking and crumbling to pieces, falling below. Several massive chunks of rock fell from the ceiling. One slammed into the steps behind Aragorn and Frodo, smashing another gap into the stair. They stood on a very narrow part of the stair that weakened with each passing second. The stairs began to sway as a crack ran through the base of the rock. Aragorn had a firm grip on Frodo's arm, encouraging him.

"Hang on!" cried Aragorn. "Lean forward!"

The stair lurched whichever way they threw their weight.

"Come on!" called Legolas.

Frodo and Aragorn leaned forward, throwing the stairs forward. They crashed into where the Fellowship stood, and Runíla reached forward to grab Frodo and steady him.

They turned and charged down the steps as the section of stair crumpled, cracking into pieces as it fell, more stone crumbling and raining down behind them.

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><p>Hope you all liked it! Please review! I love feedback!<p>

Thanks!


	16. Chapter 16

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 16**

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing here, just Runíla. Thanks for rubbing it in.<p>

A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading! Sorry its taken so long for me to update - things have been pretty mixed up lately and I've got more work than usual. The next several updates are probably going to be pretty slow. I also just really want to do this chapter _right._

I guess we all know what's happening in this chapter. Whoop-dee-doo. Just kidding, I was actually really looking forward to writing this, as weird as that may sound. I can only hope I did it justice.

Happy Thanksgiving to any readers who celebrate it!

Thanks a bunch to ILoveReadingAndWriting! I loved getting your review. :)

Please review! I would love to hear anyone's thoughts, positive or negative, relevant or (what the heck) completely irrelevant.

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><p>Ravenous flames licked the columns behind them, whirling savagely. A wall of flame almost as tall as Runíla issued an oppressive, suffocating heat as the Fellowship turned a corner, the Balrog trailing close behind. Gandalf sprinted ahead, leading the Fellowship.<p>

"Over the bridge!" he cried, urging them past him. "Fly!"

Pippin stumbled, landing hard on the floor. Runíla seized the back of his cloak and heaved him to his feet.

"Hurry, Pippin!" she spurred him on, hauling him after her at a run. "We can make it."

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was left behind and saw Gandalf's back facing her as he stared into the wall of fire. An enormous figure of shadow emerged from the flames, piercing white-hot eyes and slitted nostrils glowing though its dark form. Two threatening horns curled out of its bull-shaped head. The beast roared and wave of smothering heat coated Runíla's mouth for a moment, her breath catching in her throat. Its fiery mouth shone like a furnace, with long, pointed teeth menacingly curved.

Gandalf turned and sprinted after the rest of the Fellowship, grabbing a transfixed Runíla by the arm as he went. They charged after the rest as the beast thundered after them.

Runíla's feet pounded against the stone. Another wave of heat sent a tremor down her spine. This fire was dark and destructive, existing only for the horror of cataclysm and death. Morality was foreign to its behavior, harmony daft and alien.

This fire was meant to kill.

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><p>A thin bridge of stone entered their views, stretching across a vast dark pit. One by one the Fellowship dashed to safety, the Balrog standing alone on the far edge.<p>

Runíla and Gandalf brought up the rear. She turned and faced the Balrog for a moment, a mixture of outrage and panic in her eyes. Gandalf pushed her shoulder, shoving her in the direction of the bridge. Their eyes met, despair mingling with the flames that reflected in her eyes.

"Go!" He shouted, and she obeyed, shooting over the bridge.

He stood facing the beast, his staff and sword, Glamdring, held high.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf roared.

Doubt and fear began to expand in the dark corners on Runíla's mind as she watched the scene unfold.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed, his voice raw.

Great smoky wings unfurled and loomed over the wizard. Gandalf suddenly seemed to be a mere toy compared to the fell beast that loomed over him. Its body crackled and sputtered with a powerful, bursting flame. Despite this, the wizard stood tall, staff and sword raised.

"I am the Servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor..." Gandalf spoke fiercely.

His staff began to glow, throwing a magnificent light across the bridge and encasing him in a radiating globe.

"The dark fire will not avail you, Flame of Udûn!" He bellowed.

The Balrog pulled out a mighty sword, its blade blazing with orange flames. It brought the sword crashing down upon the wizard, only to meet the barrier of light. The sword shattered, sparks raining down like fireworks, and the beast roared.

Aragorn ran forward, only to halt at the start of the bridge. He, along with the rest of the Fellowship, were paralyzed at the scene.

Gandalf's jaw clenched. "Go back to the Shadow!" He spat.

A defiant tendril of flame snaked out of the beast's mouth as it took a lumbering step onto the narrow bridge. It whirled its blazing, fiery whip, snapping it sharply in the air.

Gandalf, fatigued, raised his staff and sword together one final time with the last of his energy.

"YOU... SHALL... NOT... PASS!"

His staff slammed into the bridge with a flash of blue light. The Balrog flared its nostrils once, and took another step onto the bridge.

The stone crumbled underneath its weight, collapsing all the way up to Gandalf's staff. With an agonized roar, the Balrog descended into the solid blackness below, its fiery whip trailing from its hand. Gandalf slumped against his staff, drained, as he watched his enemy plummet before turning to where the others stood, now relieved.

His cry reverberated through Runíla's ears as the fiery tongue of the Balrog's whip snaked around his ankle and dragged him down. The wizard caught himself, barely, at the edge, his staff and sword spiraling down after the Balrog.

Frodo scrambled forward towards him.

"No, no!" shouted Boromir.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed, frantic, as Boromir's arm caught him around the middle.

The part of her mind that had not become fuzzy was urging Runíla to move, so something, _anything_ to help him, but her body felt cemented in stone.

The wizard tried frantically to hoist himself up onto the edge of the bridge, but gave up, and fell back. Gandalf hung desperately, only by his fingertips as he looked towards Frodo, eyes glimmering.

"Fly, you fools!" he whispered, and let go.

Frodo' piercing cry echoed as Gandalf tumbled downwards in a swirl of gray, spinning and spinning until he was swallowed by darkness.

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><p>Dizzy, Runíla stared at the edge of the broken bridge where Gandalf had just been clinging. Boromir was heaving a screaming Frodo up the stairs. His mouth moved, but to Runíla, no recognizible noise came out. Dark arrows whistled at them, ticking against the stone as they missed their marks.<p>

Runíla pulled on a stunned Aragorn as she began to move, dodging the arrows. He came to his senses as well, and they cast a final look at the damaged bridge where their friend had met their downfall before following the others up the stairs.

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><p>Daylight seemed harsh as they staggered out of the mine and onto uneven, rocky terrain. The Fellowship were scattered about the rocks, all in shock.<p>

Sam sat slumped, his body racking with sobs, his face buried in his hands. Gimli was struggling against Boromir's grip, thrashing and yelling. Pippin had fallen on a rock, tears falling freely, as Merry comforted him. Legolas stood, his eyes distraught and forlorn. He looked to Runíla. She was facing the doorway they just exited. Her face was stony, hardened, her fists clenched to hide the way the shook with anger and grief.

Aragorn wiped the blade of his sword with a cloth and re-sheathed it, the scraping startling Runíla.

"Legolas, Runíla," he called. "Get them up."

Runíla stood, fixed. Legolas, slightly hesitant, went over to Merry and Pippin.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir pleaded.

"He's right." Runíla spoke, the volume of her voice startling her a bit. "We'll be swarmed by orcs soon if we stay long."

"We must reach the woods of Lothlórien." said Aragorn. "Come, Boromir, Legolas, Runíla, Gimli, get them up."

"On your feet, Sam." He said, pulling the hobbit to his feet and clapping him on the shoulder.

Runíla leapt over rocks to where Pippin lay. Legolas had a hand on Merry's shoulder, but Pippin was still consumed with grief. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say for a moment.

"Come on, Pippin, up you go." She said, hoisting him to his feet without much difficulty. Runíla kept her arms on his shoulders for a moment as she looked him in the eyes and spoke.

"What you are feeling right now, Pippin," She instructed, her face firmly set, "_use it_."

The young hobbit's brow furrowed in confusion.

"When you need inspiration, think of this moment. Think of what has been taken that should have remained. You can draw courage and purpose from even the saddest of memories. _Use_ the anger, the fear, the desperation. It will fill you with a passion more powerful than any other."

Pippin was no longer confused, now slightly nervous.

"Remember this." She said, quietly, patting his shoulder once before turning away.

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><p>And so the remaining nine members of the Fellowship hastened onwards towards Lothlórien, each leaving a piece of them behind, along with a very dear friend.<p>

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><p>I hope you liked it! Tell me what you thought please! :)<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 17**

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><p>Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything to do with the Lord of the Rings other than my original character.<p>

A/N: Welcome back!

Lots of Sindarin translations this chapter. You can find those at the very bottom.

Thank you to everyone who has shown their support in one way or another, especially to dandapanda, who reviewed last chapter!

**Please review!**

Enjoy!

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><p>The sun was sinking in the sky as the nine members of the Fellowship reached the forest's edge. They dashed through a grassy meadow and slowed to a walk one they entered the shelter of the forest.<p>

Lothlórien was truly beautiful, and they had not yet even reached its center. The trees were old, shaggy moss clinging to every trunk, branch, and stone. Leaves fluttered lazily down from treetops, and the atmosphere seemed to give off a silvery glow. Patches in the lush ceiling allowed sunlight to penetrate a large part of the forest. The air was pleasantly cool, with a tinge of earthy freshness.

Runíla felt her body relax as she walked among the nature that she had so missed in Moria, yet she did not fully relax until the forest surrounded them completely. Legolas and Aragorn, too, looked more at ease in this environment. The hobbits and Boromir were curious, but wary, while Gimli held his axe at the ready, clearly uncomfortable. She watched him stumble several times over logs and rocks disguised with moss, grumbling angrily. He was clearly not well-suited to forests.

They were not far into the forest when Runíla heard her name, just over a whisper, from behind her. She turned and looked at Legolas, eyebrows raised.

"What?" He asked.

"You said my name." She said pointedly.

"I did not." He replied, now just as confused as Runíla.

She closed her mouth, frowning, and resumed walking. Her keen, elven ears twitched as she strained for any noise. Not much later, she heard it again, louder. She realized now that it did not sound like Legolas at all, nor like anyone else in the Fellowship. She looked to where it was coming from as the voice spoke her name repeatedly, increasing in volume. Had she not been so focused on the voice, she would have paid more attention to Gimli's words about the witch who lived in Lothlórien and perhaps scolded him for saying rude things. Her searching eyes fell upon Frodo as the voice whispered her name once more, sounding so close to her she believed for a moment that she could feel its breath on the back of her neck -

A creak of a bowstring caught her attention and she turned rapidly. Runíla was immediately met with an arrow head, sharp and pointed precisely at the tip of her nose. Almost a dozen other bows were notched and ready to fire, pointing at the company. Runíla fixed her eyes upon it while the rest of the Fellowship looked around in panic, but she made no move to draw a weapon. Legolas, however, had his bow aimed at one of the archers.

A tall, regal elf with golden hair stood between two of the archers. Runíla looked him over quickly, and pushed the arrow pointed at her away from her face.

"Stand down." She told Legolas and the archers, and they did, Legolas looking puzzled.

"The dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." The elf smirked at Runíla.

Gimli growled. Runíla strode up to the elf.

"_Mae govannen, _Haldir." She greeted him, and they grasped each other's forearms in a handshake.

"_Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo_, Sílanor." He replied. "We did not expect you for at least another century."

Runíla raised her eyebrows.

"Surprised?" She asked.

"_Lau_." He smiled.

His face turned serious as he looked over the rest of the Fellowship.

"Follow me." He said, and led them deeper into Lothlórien.

* * *

><p>A cool breeze picked up as the sky darkened, stirring the branches. The silvery glow that clung to the trees now dimmed. Haldir had guided them through the forest and onto a leaf-shaped talan perched in the branches of an old oak tree. Members of the Galadhrim stood guard on nearby talons, tall and silent.<p>

"_Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion._" Haldir greeted Legolas formally, pressing one hand to his chest and then extending it out towards the elf prince.

"_Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien._" Legolas replied.

Haldir's eyes fell to Aragorn next.

"_A_,_ Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen."_ Haldir said, preforming the same hand motion to Aragorn.

"Haldir." Aragorn replied quietly, nodding his head respectfully.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the elves!" Gimli grumbled. "Speak words we can all understand!"

Haldir faced the dwarf, who only came just above his waist.

"We have not had dealings with the dwarves since the Dark Days." Haldir said cooly, a trace of contempt discernible in his tone.

"And you know what this dwarf says to that?" Gimli asked, indignant. "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul!"

Runíla raised her eyebrows at the extremely offensive dwarvish phrase. Haldir looked down upon the dwarf, frigid and disdainful. Aragorn dealt the dwarf a slight blow on the shoulder.

"_That_ was not so courteous." Aragorn growled.

Haldir passed them, and observed the hobbits for a moment. He focused on Frodo in particular.

"You bring great evil with you." He said quietly. He turned back to Aragon and met Runíla's eyes before looking towards the ranger. "You may go no further."

He swept away.

Runíla immediately opened her mouth to protest.

"Haldir," she called irritably. "_Boe ammen i dulu lîn_!"

She followed him to the other edge of the talan where they could talk further away from the Fellowship.

"_Henio."_ She pleaded, just over a whisper.

"Runíla," He sighed, switching back to common tongue, "Protecting Lothlórien is my duty, and I shall guard its light and beauty at all costs. I cannot let you continue."

They continued to argue heatedly, their whispers trailing over to the Fellowship.

"_Andelu i ven_." She implored. "_Henio aníron,_ _Haldir_."

"Allowing you to proceed would endanger all of Lothlórien!" He hissed. "If you go any further the enemy will know that you have traveled within our borders!"

"_Boe ammen veriad lîn_! _Henio, Haldir, merin le telim_." She allowed her desperate pleas to sink in, and looked at Haldir with wide, beseeching eyes. He was still for a moment, his eyes flickering between Runíla and the Fellowship. After a minute, he sighed and approached the Fellowship, looked more than dissatisfied.

"You will follow me." He commanded.

* * *

><p>A large party of elves accompanied the Fellowship, all armed with bows. They traveled one after the other along a ridge in the midst of golden-coloured trees. Haldir led the company, moving slowly but purposefully through the trees. Runíla found herself walking in front of Legolas.<p>

"How do you know him?" He asked quietly, his voice too soft for any of the Fellowship to hear.

"Haldir?" She asked, slightly surprised.

"Yes." He replied.

Runíla hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"I..." She started. "I spent a fair amount of time in Rivendell when I was young. He traveled there on occasion. And I have visited the Lady Galadriel before. We grew friendly."

That was the truth; vague, but honest. She and Haldir were never very close, but as he was highly esteemed by the Lady Galadriel, and so they were on good terms with one another.

"I see." Legolas replied.

Neither of them spoke again. They reached the peak of the ridge that offered a spectacular view down upon the treetops of Caras Galadhorn, the central city of Lothlórien. The resplendent foliage shone green and gold, the golden rays of the evening sun reflecting brilliantly off of the broad leaves. It was, without a doubt, a remarkable sight. Even Gimli, who's dislike for the elven race ran deep, had a difficult time fighting to hide the impressed expression on his face.

"Caras Galadhorn..." announced Haldir proudly. "the heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn, and of Galadriel, Lady of Light."

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><p><span>Sindarin Translations<span>

_Mae Govannen ... Well met_

_Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo ... A star shines on the hour of our meeting_

_Lau_ ... _No_

_Mae govannen, Legolas Thranduilion ... Welcome Legolas, Son of Thranduil_

__Govannas vîn gwennen le, Haldir o Lórien ... Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien__

___A_,_ Aragorn in Dúnedain istannen le ammen ... Ah, Aragorn of the Dúnedain, you are known to us___

____Boe ammen i dulu lîn ... We need your support____

_____Andelu i ven ... The road is fell/The road is very dangerous_____

______Henio aníron,_ _Haldir ... Please, understand, Haldir______

_______Boe ammen veriad lîn ... We need your protection_______

________Henio, Haldir, merin le telim ... Please, Haldir, I wish that we may come with you________

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><p><strong>Khuzdul Translations<strong>

Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul ... I spit on your grave

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><p><strong>Please please please please please please please<strong>** review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 18**

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><p>Disclaimer: I only own Runíla here, nothing else.<p>

A/N: Hello all! I hope my description of Caras Galadhorn and the Lady Galadriel does Peter Jackson and Mr. Tolkien justice.

Thanks to ILoveReadingAndWriting for your review! Made my day! :)

_Review!_

Enjoy!

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><p>Runíla had forgotten the true elegance and beauty of Caras Galadhorn. The area hummed with thriving life and magic. A quiet power lingered about the place, the aura of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. The whisper of elven magic seemed to sharpen her mind, but also sooth her and make her movements smooth and deliberate.<p>

They were led on a pathway that wound through the trees, all of which were wider than Runíla was tall. Their roots delved deep into the leaf-covered ground, intertwined with each other. As the sun set, the moon emerged and illuminated the great forest with a faint silver and blue glow.

Steps curved around and up the trunks of some of the largest trees, with archways sheltering them. Incandescent lanterns brightened their way with an ethereal light, and a distant, celestial melody echoed far off.

Haldir escorted them, guiding them up one of the curving stairs to the palace. Around and around the trunk they walked, past shadowy branches, underneath the silvery light that the arches emitted.

The top opened up to a large, grand talan. It supported an airy, glowing palace, which seemed to radiate the purest light Runíla had ever seen from its very core. Stairs descended from the palace, two ornate, slender columns on either side.

Simple, delicate golden leaves were strewn across the platform. Haldir led them to a platform directly in front of the base of the stairs and stepped aside. The Fellowship crowded together, eyes wide at the magnificent architecture and splendor of the elves.

The already brilliant glow from the palace grew to an even greater radiance, stunning the Fellowship with its glory. At the very center of the light, two figures came forth, joining hands at the top of the stairs before descending gradually and elegantly. Out of the light appeared Lord Celeborn, tall and proud, and Lady Galadriel, captivatingly beautiful and noble. The two of them possessed a commanding presence. The hobbits, Boromir, Gimli, and Legolas were enthralled with the elves, looking every bit imperial in silver and white robes complete with elaborate coronets.

Runíla bowed her head deeply in respect, as Aragorn touched his forehead in greeting. They halted, and the light dimmed. The Fellowship gaped at the Lord and Lady until Celeborn spoke.

"The enemy knows you have entered here." He surveyed the company. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were, set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him... I can no longer see him from afar."

Lady Galadriel's eyes were fixed upon Aragorn.

"Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land." She spoke softly. "He has fallen into shadow."

Hearing it aloud made the loss of their friend even more piercing. Aragorn's nod was all the clarification the wearied and grieving Fellowship offered. Celeborn turned to Galadriel, surprised.

"He was taken by both shadow and flame." Legolas said, bitter. "A Balrog of Morgoth." Celeborn was clearly startled at the news, anguish conspicuous in his eyes as Legolas continued. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life." Lady Galadriel reassured them. "We do not yet know his whole purpose. Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-Dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin."

Gimli looked up at the elf queen, startled at her words.

"For the world has grown full of peril." She continued. "And in all lands, love is now mingled with grief."

Boromir's body racked with sobs as he made eye contact with Lady Galadriel. Her eyes bored into his, unwavering, a piercing blue, gleaming with light.

"What now becomes of the Fellowship?" Celeborn asked the question all of the company had been asking themselves, but were too distraught to voice. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife." Galadriel said after a moment's silence. "Stray but a little, and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the company is true." She smiled down upon Sam, who met her eyes. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace."

Galadriel's eyes met Runíla's for a split second. Runíla blinked, momentarily overwhelmed as an image of a sapling growing beside a broad boulder, vanishing from her mind as quickly as it had appeared. Lady Galadriel gave her a small nod and smile as Haldir stepped forward again and led the Fellowship back down the rounded stair.

He guided them down a path not unlike the one they traveled on when entering Caras Galadhorn, except less populated. Runíla let her eyes skim over the trees, beginning to feel more at ease. Her eyes brushed over a gap between two vast trunks in a secluded area of the forest, and flickered back in a flash. The opening between the trunks revealed the same slender sapling and rock that had appeared in her mind. She quickly noted the location of the spot, and continued on with the rest of the Fellowship.

Haldir escorted them the rest of the way, directing them to a comfortable-looking area lit by silvery lanterns dangling from the trees like stars suspended from the branches. Canopies sheltered the ample space between the giant roots, the nooks equipped with downy pillows and snug blankets.

Haldir smiled at the company.

"Here is where I leave you. " He announced. "Rest. Every comfort you shall need is provided for you. _Namárië. _Rest well."

He nodded to them and was soon lost among the shadows of the forest.

Runíla, who was feeling much more restless than fatigued, perched herself high on a root near the top of one of the outstretched roots, giving her a wide view of the Fellowship. The hobbits and Gimli immediately dumped their packs onto the ground and prepared for bed. Gimli slumped down almost immesiately, and it did not take long until his snores thundered throughout the clearing. Aragorn was seated underneath one of the canopies, sharpening his sword. Legolas had vanished for a minute and returned wearing a lavish silver tunic that suited his title as prince. Boromir sat silently, deep in thought, farther away from the Fellowship.

Everyone was settled in when Runíla decided it was time to slip away. She did not unpack, rising soundlessly, unnoticed, vanishing among the trees like smoke in thin air.

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><p><strong>Sindarin<strong> **Translations **

_Namárië... Farewell_


	19. Chapter 19

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 19**

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><p>Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings, I just own Runíla.<p>

A/N: Hey! I'm trying to cut down on my Author's Notes now. I know they can be a pain, but thanks a bunch to **superkiran** for reviewing! So glad you like the story. I also have a question for you readers - do you want chapters that mainly revolve around other characters (Aragorn or Legolas, perhaps), or would you rather the story stick with Runíla? Leave a review telling me what you want! Sorry for the late update, I had writer's block and a lot of other work. So much for cutting down Author's Notes, I guess. :P

Review please please please!

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><p>The forest was absolutely silent. No creature – human, animal, or other – crossed Runíla's path, just a chilled wind ruffling her hair. She moved silently through the trees, not following any path, just weaving through the woods in the direction they first came. Not a single lantern lit her path as she flitted between the ghost-like trees.<p>

Distantly, forlorn, beautiful voices sang. Runíla paused for a moment to listen to the words they sang, and stiffened.

"_A Olórin i yaresse… _

_Mentaner I Numeherui_

_Tírien I Rómenóri..."_

A female elf's angelic, mournful voice carried throughout the trees in a haunting lament to Gandalf. Runíla clenched her jaw and pushed on, not wanting to delay.

"_Melme nóren sina_

__núra ala__

_Eäro…"_

Runíla soon caught a glimpse of the sapling between the trees. She slipped between the last few trees and entered the small clearing after confirming that she was alone. A dark, misshapen package lay on the rock. Striding forward towards the rock, she reached out to place a hand on the package.

Her hand immediately whipped back to her bow, nocking an arrow as a beaming white figure approached from the corner of her eye. Runíla's eyes were fiercely narrowed as she spun, aiming her arrow at the figure, but she instantly dropped her bow to the ground and knelt, her head bowed.

"Lady Galadriel." She murmured. "My deepest apologies."

"It is perfectly all right, Sílanor." Galadriel smiled, using Runíla's name that was most common among the elves. "Rise."

Runíla straightened up, stowing away her bow.

"I assume you wished to see me, my Lady?" Runíla asked.

"Indeed." replied Galadriel. "I should like to be frank with you, Sílanor. There are several reasons I wish to speak to you on this night. But first," She gestured to the packages. "I have brought gifts."

"My lady, you did not -" Runíla began, but was cut off.

"You have refused gifts every other time you have visited, and I insist on giving them this time."

Runíla reluctantly went to the rock and picked up one of the packages. Unwrapping it, she pulled out a dark blue tunic with silver vines tracing the neckline and black trousers. They both looked more feminine than her usual clothes, but still practical.

"Yours are always looking quite tattered," Lady Galadriel said, "so I took the liberty of having a new set made specially for you. I meant to give them to you years ago, but you always refused."

"Thank you very much, my lady." Runíla said, folding them and reaching for the next package.

She unraveled the cloth to reveal a fine pair of brown leather arm bracers, complete with a large silver leaf. Runíla immediately tossed away her old, beaten ones, and strapped the new ones on, tracing the silver leaf with a small smile.

"These are wonderful. You are too kind."

"They should have been yours years ago." Galadriel smiled. "You may leave the clothes here. I shall see that they are brought to you by morning. Now, we must talk."

Runíla waited expectantly for Galadriel to speak until she gestured for Runíla to follow her. They slowly walked through the trees, the moss and ever-falling leaves blanketing their footsteps.

"I know your future, Sílanor." Lady Galadriel said suddenly. "And I cannot deny that it perplexes me."

Runíla raised her eyebrows, surprised, Galadriel's face dark.

"It has come to me three times. Each time, it is different. However, there is one constant in it, which I shall not divulge."

"I beg your pardon, Lady Galadriel," Runíla asked, thoroughly puzzled now, "But I cannot see the point in this."

"Do you wish to know your fate?"

Lady Galadriel halted and faced Runíla. Her eyes seemed to penetrate Runíla's mind, and she knew that she could not lie.

"Yes." She answered, but then her brows furrowed as she thought. "No." She said.

Runíla concentrated hard for a few moments before speaking again.

"I cannot deny that a large part of me does want the knowledge..." She admitted. "But a larger part of me knows that it could only do damage. If the war shall be lost, and Middle Earth should meet its downfall, I would know that I am simply fighting a lost cause. No, I would not like to know." She said her final answer firmly, set on her decision.

Galadriel scrutinized Runíla as she said this, and smiled softly, but proudly.

"That was very wise." She remarked. "I would not have disclosed such information even if you had asked for it, and precisely for that reason. However, I would offer you some advice."

Runíla inclined her head in a sign of respect.

"That is very gracious of you, my Lady." She said, a part of her eager, almost longing for the information as they continued walking.

"Firstly, the Fellowship is splintering, breaking from within. You know this. Sílanor, I beg of you to control your temper. If you lose it, the Fellowship's days shall be even more numbered than they are. This is _vital_, Sílanor. The Fellowship must stay together until the last possible moment, not only for the Ring's sake, but also for the company's. Do you understand me?"

Runíla nodded, hesitant and slightly wary. It was not hard to tell that the Fellowship's days were coming to a close. Gandalf had very much been the heart and soul of the Fellowship, their guide, friend, and advisor, the glue that had always kept them from splitting apart.

"Secondly," Lady Galadriel continued, "this quest shall bring great change upon Middle Earth and your life, whether you survive or not."

Galadriel led her up a small hill and halted at the top. They looked down upon a tiny brook, far-off lights dimly illuminating the area through the trees.

"The world is shifting." Galadriel said quietly. "It seems that everything down to the very core of the earth is being altered by recent events. Should the war be won, Middle Earth will enter a new Age like none before. What I am trying to say, Sílanor, is that as the times change, and you had best change with them, or you shall be abandoned, left in the dust. The world will go on, and you will wander the earth, a shadow of older times."

"Milady - " Runíla began, but Lady Galadriel cut her off.

"Not yet, Sílanor. You may not grasp this information yet, but let me finish so that you may use it one day, if need be."

Runíla wisely stayed silent, her thoughts muddled.

"You are close-minded, Sílanor, do not deny it. It is time you open your eyes to new things. You may find that something you believed to be a weakness will build you up, make you stronger. Remember that different is not always bad. It could give you something to fight for."

Although she did not let it show, Runíla was growing increasingly frustrated. She was never one for riddles or mystery, and found Lady Galadriel's messages too cryptic for her to comprehend.

"You will understand in time." Galadriel sighed, smiling sadly. "I can only hope you make the right decision, should the time come."

They stood in silence, Runíla's mind worlds away, attempting to process the information. As she wondered, a question crossed her mind, and she decided to voice it.

"What of Aragorn, my lady?" She asked.

Galadriel did not need to ask to know that Runíla spoke of his claim to the throne of Gondor.

"I am afraid that his fate is as clouded as yours." Galadriel exhaled heavily. "Should the war be won, he will make his choice to lead Gondor to reclaim its lost glory, or leave it to the hands of lesser men. Do not attempt to reason with him, Sílanor. When all is said and done, it shall be his decision, not yours."

Runíla nodded, not entirely pleased with the answer, but reluctantly acceptant of it. Lady Galadriel examined the elleth as she turned her head back towards the brook and trees before them. Sílanor's dark eyes were blank as she was lost in thought and her mouth was firmly set. Galadriel admitted to herself that she did not know whether to feel pity or respect for her. She was not weak, that much was obvious, but often too strong-willed for her own good.

Galadriel scrutinized the elleth she had known since she was only a few hundred years old with a small surge of pride. She was no more beautiful than any other elleth, but she was striking all the same. Galadriel found that her real beauty was not in her appearance, but aspects of her character, and that was something that could not be said about other elleths.

Soon, Galadriel turned her gaze out towards the gurgling brook, the distant lament echoing forlornly from afar. The two stood silhouetted by the silver light of the moon in a glum silence. In their thoughts, they both acknowledged that time was quickly slipping through their fingers, and the future unsure. Nothing could ever return to the way it was after the destruction that was on the horizon. Neither voiced their doubts or worries, but they stood side by side, sure that the other was wondering the same dark questions.

The lament ended suddenly, breaking Runíla from her grim thoughts. Silence seemed to ring louder than the song, only broken by the hushed murmur of the brook. Galadriel turned to face the elleth.

"_Namárië._" Runíla bowed her head as she turned to leave.

"_Losto mae_." Galadriel said softly, and watched Runíla make her way through the trees until she could no longer hear her light footsteps in the distance.

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><p><strong>Sindarin<strong> **Translations**_  
><em>

_A Olórin i yaresse…... Olórin who once was_

_Mentaner I Numeherui... Sent by the Lord of the West_

_Tírien I Rómenóri... To guard the Lands of the East_

__Melme nóren sina... Our love for this land__

____núra ala... Is deeper than the deeps____

_____Eäro... Of the Sea_____

______Namárië... Farewell______

_______Losto mae... Sleep well_______


	20. Chapter 20

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 20**

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><p>AN: Hey, and welcome back! This is kind of a milestone chapter for me. Thanks a bunch to <strong>Faervel the Free<strong>,** Dhalmi93** and **dandapanda** for reviewing! You guys rock!

GO SEE THE HOBBIT. I went to the midnight premiere and it was absolutely MINDBLOWING. I would go on more, but I would probably never shut up. :P Just SEE IT!

Have fun, and please review!

* * *

><p>It was a sleepless night for Runíla. She sat, one knee pulled close to her chest, the other stretched out, perched on a branch above the Fellowship. Her mind wandered as she kept watch over the seven that rested below. Runíla had developed an odd sense of protectiveness since she spoke with Lady Galadriel, and she took it upon herself to keep an eye on them. Lorién was safe, she knew that, but with the Fellowship withering, it felt like the right thing to do.<p>

Gimli's snores rumbled from where he lay sprawled out on the ground, drowning out the softer snores of the others. Aragorn slept restlessly nearby, one hand resting near his sword hilt. Boromir was also sound asleep, along with Merry, Pippin and Sam. Legolas' eyes were open, as elves' eyes are when they sleep, as he lay on his side, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Frodo tossed and turned in his sleep near Sam, clearly agitated.

Something bright shifted at the edge of the clearing. Runíla sat up as Lady Galadriel strode quickly and gracefully past. Her eyes stayed fixed directly in front of her and her robes slithered softly on the leaf covered ground. Runíla watched as Frodo stirred, seeing Galadriel pass, and rose to follow her, hesitant but curious, unnoticed by the rest of the Fellowship. Ordinarily, she would have followed them, but she trusted Lady Galadriel and knew no harm would come to the Ring bearer.

Unconsciously, her eyes slid to Legolas. He confused her. Over the past few weeks, she saw that he acted nothing like the egoistic, overbearing prince she expected him to be. Instead, he was nothing but quiet, observant, loyal and thoughtful. Runíla knew that he would make a wonderful king after his father steps down, even though when she was around him, she seemed to forget his title and status. She studied him for a minute more before she fully realized what she was doing, and immediately snapped her head in the opposite direction. A warmth spread to her cheeks as she tried to avoid looking at his sleeping figure. Disbelieving, her hand flew up to her flushed cheek. Was she... _blushing_?

Clenching her jaw, Runíla leapt down soundlessly from the branch and stalked deep into the forest, fuming. She was outraged at herself for acting foolish and delicate, the complete opposite of her image. But beneath the raging anger sprouted disappointment. This was not supposed to be her. Was she becoming weak? Was her time up? Was she even any use anymore? Did Middle Earth need her the way she used to?

She lost herself deep in the shadows of the forest until not a single ray of light, be it from a lantern or the glowing moon penetrated the thick ceiling of leaves that blocked off the sky. Runíla came to rest on a high branch that hid her from anyone on the ground. It was just her and the boughs of the tree reaching out to her like arms trying to comfort her, but she bowed her head, pulling her knees up to her chest as the feeling of complete fury and utter worthlessness raged on inside her.

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><p>Runíla watched as the pitch blackness of night slowly warmed to the soft glow of early dawn as the sun rose up on another day. After several hours, her anger simmered, and her thoughts went to Gandalf. Each time she re-lived his death in her imagination it stabbed a deeper pain in her chest. It played on loop, no matter how much she willed herself to take her mind off of the wizard. The more she saw it, the duller her senses seemed to become, but the ache grew even more great.<p>

The morning sun's glaring rays began to poke through the trees and the exhaustion seemed to hit her heavily. And despite the beaming sun, she slumped against the tree trunk and drifted into dark and haunting dreams.

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><p>A gentle nip pricked her finger and Runíla was pulled from her unsettled sleep. She looked down at her hand where a small, brilliant green bird with a vibrant blue breast perched, pecking her thumb lightly. Raising her hand to eye level, Runíla studied the tiny creature. Up close, its bright golden eye stared into hers, blinking once. It unfolded its wings and took flight, fluttering once around her head before zooming off into the branches, seeming to carry her troubles away with it as it vanished.<p>

Runíla relaxed, stretched, and swung down branches until she landed on the forest floor in a crouch. She began to maneuver through the dense trees, the golden sunlight dappled on the ground. With a jolt, she realized she must have slept past midday. Runíla picked up her pace, jogging lightly through the woods until she stumbled across the path Haldir led them on the previous night. It led her directly to the camp where a lively fire danced and the smell of cooking fish was strong in the air.

Eight pairs of eyes snapped to her as Runíla entered the clearing.

"Morning." She greeted them, jerking her hand in a small wave and heading to the corner where her dual swords lay.

"Afternoon, more like." Pippin piped up. "Lunch?" He offered her a plate with steaming fish and a side of vegetables. "It's a bit late, but you must be hungry."

She slung off her bow and quiver, dropping them next to her swords and took the plate and a fork from Pippin. Her stomach rumbled at the appetizing smells.

"Pull up some grass." Merry patted the ground beside him, and Runíla sat, shoveling food into her mouth.

"Where did you go?" Sam asked, curious.

"Walk." She mumbled in between bites.

"All day?" Merry raised his eyebrows.

"Left last night. Fell asleep." Runíla scooped up another massive bite but it was too much and she began coughing violently. Pippin thumped her on the back, and she stopped. Sam handed her a pouch of water and she gratefully poured some in her mouth.

The hobbits continued conversation, letting Runíla listen in as she finished her meal. She scraped the last bits of food off her plate and set it on the ground, standing up to head over to her weapons. Her path was suddenly blocked by a displeased-looking Aragorn.

"Do _not_ do that again." He said quietly.

"I am sorry." She apologized, slightly surprised. He knew Lorién was protected, so she did not know why he had a problem with her going off for a while.

"We have to stay together. You never know what might slip through the borders." He warned.

Runíla sighed, realizing he was right. He noticed her new arm braces strapped tightly to her forearms.

"Where are those from?" He asked.

"I got them from Lady Galadriel." She replied.

He nodded, not pushing the subject and clapped her on the shoulder, striding back over to Legolas. She avoided the elf's eyes as she reached her weapons, uncovering the clothes that Lady Galadriel presented her with the night before. Tucking them under her arm, she made to leave the clearing.

"We leave on the morrow, Runíla." Aragorn called after her as he polished his sword.

She nodded and walked until she was a safe distance from any sign of life, elf or human, before changing. They fit her perfectly, snug but loose enough to enable free movement. Runíla admired the simple designs on the tunic and bundled up her stained, threadbare clothes.

Once back in the clearing, she tossed her old clothes in the fire, startling the hobbits.

"Where'd you get those from?" Pippin gestured to her new clothes.

"Lady Galadriel gave them to me." She answered.

"But I never saw..." He trailed off puzzled as the flames devoured her shirt and pants.

Runíla spent the rest of the afternoon tucked away in a corner, busy sharpening her swords and knives. The light had just begun to dim when she noticed Boromir rise and disappear into the forest. She sighed, thinking back to her discussion with Lady Galadriel. Reluctantly, she got to her feet and followed him into the forest.


	21. Chapter 21

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 21**

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><p>AN: I'm back! Thanks a bunch to <strong>mayalewis16<strong> and **dandapanda **for reviewing – I'm so glad you like the story! (**dandapanda** - I suppose you could do that if you wanted imprints of the keyboard on your forehead for the rest of the day :P )

FYI, I am going to California for Christmas this year and I leave in less than a week, so I probably won't be able to update until the beginning of the new year. :( So have a wonderful Christmas/Chanukah/Kwanzaa/Festivus/any other holiday that I missed. Don't die on Friday!

Tell me if you guys want me to do chapters revolving around other people rather than Runíla and I can make that happen. Also, if you have any other suggestions, questions, comments, etc., please feel free to leave a comment.

Thanks to everyone who followed and/or favorited!

REVIEW!

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><p>She found Boromir gazing up at the emerging stars through the branches of the trees, hands clasped behind his back. A bit surprised at his composure, she stepped forward, purposefully treading on a branch. The snap startled him and he spun around.<p>

"You." He snarled, but his shock was evident.

"Me." She stated simply, taking another couple of steps forward.

"Come to rage at me again?" He spat.

"Only if you deserve it." Runíla retorted.

"What do you want, anyways?" He huffed.

"I wish to talk."

"Why?"

"So many questions, Son of Gondor. Slow down." She teased. "We have matters that ought to be... settled."

His stony silence was difficult to interpret.

"I do not apologize for what I said," She continued, but was cut off before she could finish her sentence.

"You should, it was wrong." He said roughly.

Runíla sighed, pushing back the bitter retort that practically begged to be voiced.

"I am entitled to my own opinions, and as are you to yours." She attempted to reason with him. _Even if yours are foolish and show what an ignorant, obtuse man you are_, she added in her head. "Therefore, I shall not apologize for what I said."

He huffed and focused his glare on a young tree nearby as if it had caused him physical pain, looking as if he had some fierce opinions of his own that he wished to utter.

"But for the good of what remains of the Fellowship," Her jaw clenched, and she felt as if she would rather face all of the forces of Mordor weaponless and alone than say the next words. "I apologize for almost killing you."

"You do not mean it, and both of us know it." He snarled.

Every inch of Runíla's mind was fervently agreeing with him, but Galadriel's face, stern and disapproving, flashed through her mind.

"No, I do. I lost my temper and it was wrong of me. On my honor, I swear that I am sincere."

Boromir observed her for a moment, studying her expression. Runíla's talent for lies (perfected over the years) hid the truth from his eyes, her face a cool and expressionless mask.

_I would be sorry_, she thought savagely, _if you did not deserve it. _She was proud of the fact that in her mind, she refused to accept defeat, though he was oblivious to that.

He said nothing and resumed glaring at the poor, innocent tree across from him.

"This is when you apologize for making rude assumptions and stereotyping my gender." She hinted after a moment of tense silence.

He raised an eyebrow, and she raised one right back. Sighing, he realized that he would not be able to leave until made an apology as long as Runíla stood there. She crossed her arms expectant, waiting for him to speak.

"I apologize for the way I spoke about women." He spat out the words as fast as possible and as if they were dirt on his tongue. "Satisfied?"

Runíla shrugged and smirked at his discomfort. Deciding that she did not want to spend any more time with him than she absolutely had to, she left Boromir, turning back to the clearing to grab her bow and arrows. When she ducked back into the clearing, descending the steps that led to it. Two elves tended the fire in the center, fresh food by the side ready to be cooked. The hobbits immediately turned to look at her, fearful, the others wary.

"What?" She asked, puzzled.

"Is Boromir... alright?" Merry asked, nervous.

"Of course he is. Why would you think otherwise?" She asked, defensive.

"Well we though... y'know... after what happened last time..." Pippin gulped, and Runíla rolled her eyes.

"I promise you that the only thing harmed is his pride."

Aragorn looked at her sternly.

"It's not my fault. He holds it high over his head, and when someone takes even a slight blow at it, it takes a long fall." She said loftily.

Aragorn sighed and Legolas pursed his lips to hide a smile, but it showed in his eyes. She quickly averted her gaze.

Runíla slung her quiver over her shoulder, tightening the strap across her chest. The others watched her as she snatched up her bow and set off at a brisk pace.

"Where are you off to now, lassie?" Gimli asked just as she reached the edge of the trees.

"Target practice." Runíla trotted off into the trees, one pair of eyes following her until her bold, fiery hair had vanished into the forest.

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><p>Far into the forest, she stumbled across a broad piece of dead bark that had been severed from a nearby tree. She propped it up against a tree, on top of a boulder that raised it to roughly eye level and stood as far away from it as she could get. First, she pictured the gruesome face of an orc on the makeshift target, but it eventually morphed into the smug face of one of the company. She fired off arrow after arrow into the bark, the forest filled with the dull thuds of the target being pierced. Not much later, she went to reach for another arrow but her hand groped in midair, her quiver emptied. So, after wrenching the arrows from the bark, she started again.<p>

Runíla aimed carefully, her vision sharp despite the growing darkness. She was sure to never hit the same place twice and split one of her arrows, because she felt that she would need every one she had soon. She emptied her quiver three more times and was forced to cease after the bark had been practically mutilated. Splintered and stabbed, it slumped against the trunk behind it. As an elf and lover of nature, she did not want to harm the tree supporting the bark.

She turned to leave when a cracking noise caught her attention. Whirling around, she notched another arrow, but then Runíla realized it was just the bark. It slipped off of the boulder and split into three pieces, shredded. She smirked as she pictured Boromir's face fixed to the target again, and continued back to the others.

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><p>By the time she returned, Boromir was seated by the fire with the others, the darkness shadowing the sides that were hidden from the firelight.<p>

"You missed dinner." Pippin chirped. "There's some left over, if you like. We would have saved you more, but Gimli got to it first."

Runíla smiled at the hobbit, pleased at his kindness.

"No thank you. I am not particularly hungry." She answered.

Pippin handed the plate of food to Gimli, who quickly gobbled it down, grumbling about elven food being too light. Runíla crouched by the fire with the others, Aragorn puffing on his pipe to her right.

"So, tomorrow," She asked him. "do we travel down the Anduin?"

Aragorn nodded. "Haldir said that we will be given boats. He came by earlier to bring us food."

Runíla prodded the slowly dying fire with a stick lying nearby. The flames leaped as she stirred the embers, the reddish light jumping across their faces. She looked up, seeing Legolas across from her, gazing into the flames, lost in thought. The firelight gleamed intensely on his face, his blond hair catching the light. He looked up and met her eyes for a fraction of a second, but she dropped the stick to the ground and rose up, bringing her bow and quiver over to where her swords and knives lay.

Soon they were all scattered around as the Fellowship huddled into their blankets. Runíla sat high up on a root that delved into the ground from one of the colossal trees. It split from the tree at a point almost twice as tall as Runíla.

She slept on and off throughout the night, her bittersweet dreams filled often with an unexpected visitor - Gandalf sometimes sat beside her, laughing, or perhaps smoking his pipe. His laughter echoed through her mind as she slept uneasily through the shadowed night.


	22. Chapter 22

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 22**

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><p>AN: Hello, all! I lied. There is another chapter coming before the holidays!<p>

Thanks to **MusicalGeniusAnimeLover **for reviewing – don't worry, I've got stuff coming! I've planned a lot of stuff out and there's definitely stuff in the near future. (sorry, I used the word "stuff" way too much) Thanks a bunch for the tips!

Enjoy, and please review!

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><p>The morning dawned cool and misty. The Fellowship rose early and packed the little belongings they possessed. Runíla strapped on her quiver, swords and knives, sighing as she recalled her missing set of throwing knives, all lost in Moria. She quickly twisted her hair into a loose braid and, picking up her bow, went to join the waiting Fellowship. They were quiet, unhappy to be leaving the safety and hospitality of the elves, but also because it seemed as if they were leaving Gandalf farther and farther behind.<p>

Haldir appeared again to lead them to where they were to set off. They followed him to the bank of a cold river near the edge of the borders of Lothlórien. Mists hung heavy over the pale water, bare tree branches arching above the river. A pale, ghostly-looking white bridge stretched across the water to their left. The sun was just barely beginning to rise, pale shafts of light poking through the trees, and the chilled air caused their breath to puff out it swirling clouds.

"This is where I leave you." Haldir said, turning and facing them. "I wish all of you the best on your journey."

He shook hands with Aragorn, the hobbits, Boromir, and even (to Runíla's surprise) Gimli. Then, he came to Legolas.

"_Namárië, Legolas Thranduilion_. _Mára mesta._"

Runíla felt that every time the words "Legolas Thranduilion" were spoken, they stung like a slap across the face. It was a harsh, cruel reminder that Legolas was the prince of the very land she was born in and exiled from, never to return for fear of execution. Painfully, she imagined Legolas' face, usually calm and collected, burning with hatred and disgust upon discovering that he was traveling with an elleth who's criminal of a father was executed by Thranduil, and was an outcast of the land he was the prince of. Runíla shifted a bit to her left, away from Legolas, as Haldir approached.

"_Alámenë, Sílanor._"

They shook hands briefly and he strode quickly back the path they came. Elves bearing green cloaks emerged from the trees as the Fellowship stood by the riverbank, Celeborn standing nearby. A boat fashioned gracefully in the likeness of a swan traveled slowly on the river bearing the Lady Galadriel, clad in white.

Runíla stood between Aragorn and Gimli upon the riverbank, sure to get as far away from Legolas as she could. The elves stepped forwards, removing the Fellowship's tattered and grimy cloaks and replacing them with new ones, fastening them with elegant green and silver leaf brooches.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people." Celeborn said. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Runíla's fingers traced the edge of the cloak, running her hands over the light but thick cloth. She looked out at the water but found that Lady Galadriel was no longer there. Her boat was tethered to a nearby shore, and Galadriel stood in front of Legolas, an elf by her side who's arms were laden with gifts. Runíla watched as Galadriel handed Legolas a fine new bow of Galadhrim make, not unlike her own. He was awed with it, running his hands over the fine wood and testing the string. Merry and Pippin were given bright, curved daggers that were more like short swords for the hobbits. She presented Sam with a coiled rope made by the elves. After he was given the rope, Runíla thought she heard the hobbit say, "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?" But Galadriel simply smiled and moved down the line to Frodo and Gimli. Runíla did not pay attention to their gifts as she spoke with Aragorn.

"So we travel downriver. What then?" She asked. "Do we go south and try to enter Mordor from the west? Or do we near it from the north?"

"North, I believe." He answered. "Unless Lord Celeborn advises differently."

She nodded. "That is a difficult route."

"This is a difficult journey." He countered.

"Excellent point."

Galadriel approached Runíla.

"And to you, Sílanor, I give two sets of throwing knives." She presented two sets of eight throwing knives, all various sizes.

"My Lady, surely you have given me enough already?" Runíla protested, uncomfortable with being bestowed with so many gifts from Galadriel.

"I insist." Lady Galadriel held them towards Runíla. "You need them."

Reluctantly, Runíla took them and brushed her fingers over the gleaming hilts. They were beautiful, in a deadly, frightening sort of way. She knew that they would see a great deal of battle in the coming months.

"_Le fael_." She said, her head bowed.

"Wait here, Sílanor. I should like a word with you after I speak with Elessar." Galadriel said, facing Aragorn.

Runíla nodded and stepped away, giving them privacy to speak. Their conversation was hushed and short, and soon Lady Galadriel turned to Runíla.

"Come." She beckoned.

Runíla accompanied Lady Galadriel through the woods as Celeborn took Aragorn to the side. She and Galadriel did not go very far in, just until they were out of earshot.

"I understand that you are hesitant to befriend the son of Thranduil," Galadriel spoke hurriedly. "But I must tell you that you have to forget your past. You did nothing wrong all those years ago. Neither did your father, for that matter. I have often thought that the rivalry between dwarves and elves to be particularly foolish. Do not act as if it is a stain upon your name. If anything, it is a stain upon Thranduil's for exiling two young children and their helpless mother."

"What are you saying?" Runíla asked, confused.

Galadriel spoke softly, comfortingly, one hand on Runíla's shoulder.

"I am saying that it is time you let go."

* * *

><p>Three boats were pulled up to the shore, provisions piled up on the bank. The Fellowship and Lórien elves were hurrying to load the boats with packets of food, water skins, blankets, flint and tinder. Merry and Pippin were already seated in one boat, their new daggers hanging proudly from their belts.<p>

Runíla eyed Legolas, who was packing a couple blankets into Merry and Pippin's boat, and, slightly hesitant, went to help. She picked up a couple bundles of food wrapped in leaves and passed them to Legolas.

"Thank you, _mellon nín_." He took the bundle from her, smiling softly, and turned to load it into the boat.

"Lembas!" He unwrapped a thin wafer from the package. "Elvish Way-bread." He explained to Merry and Pippin, nibbling off one corner. "One small bite can fill the stomach of a grown man."

Merry and Pippin raised their eyebrows in feigned astonishment. Legolas turned back up the shore to fetch another package as Runíla brought another to the boat.

"How many did you eat?" She heard Merry whisper.

"Four." replied Pippin, burping.

But Runíla was too absorbed with thinking of what Legolas had just called her. _Mellon nín. _My friend. Perhaps Galadriel was right. Why should she be so focused on something that she was not to blame for? Hopefully Legolas would see that, if he ever found out. _In the meantime,_ she thought to herself, smirking, _why not become friendly with him? After all, I promised myself I would avoid him... and, well, I've never been one for following the rules_ _anyways._

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><p>Soon the boats were all laden with supplies. Sam clambered into one, holding on to the side as it rocked in the water. Legolas helped Gimli into another as Frodo hopped in beside Frodo. Boromir pushed off one of the boats, and jumped in behind Merry and Pippin, taking up a paddle. Aragorn did the same for the boat with Frodo and Sam.<p>

"You go first." Runíla told Legolas. "I'll push off."

He climbed in with ease and took up one of the paddles. Runíla turned back to the shore for a moment, nodding to Celeborn, who inclined his head in return. With a shove, she thrust the boat forward into the water and leapt in, taking the front. She and Legolas dug the paddles in deep to catch up to the others.

Rosy light burned softly at their backs as they traveled down river, elves lining the bank, watching them depart. Among them was Lady Galadriel, standing apart from the others, a white hood draped over her golden hair. She raised a gentle hand in farewell, and Runíla smiled softly at her, just for a moment, until the Lady of Light was behind them, and their perils ahead.


	23. Chapter 23

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 23**

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><p><strong>MUST READ THIS:<strong>

Because I am a genius, I mixed up the chapters so I deleted the previous, shorter chapter 23 and this is the newer and MUCH longer version. Sorry. Enjoy!

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><p>The sun was high in the blue sky by the time Lothlórien had faded from sight. The Fellowship, all clad in their new cloaks and bearing their precious gifts, made quick progress down the river, the current aiding their progress. The river was lined with green trees, snow-capped peaks looming in the distance.<p>

Runíla controlled the front of one boat, with Legolas in the back and Gimli in between. Aragorn, Frodo and Sam were off to their left, and Boromir, Merry and Pippin on theirs.

Gimli finally broke the serene silence, sighing.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting, having looked my last upon that which is fairest." He said mournfully. "Henceforth I will call nothing fair, unless it be her gift to me."

"What was her gift?" Legolas asked from behind Gimli.

"I asked for one hair from her golden head." Gimli replied, emotional. "She gave me three."

Runíla raised her eyebrows, incredulous, and glanced over her shoulder to see Gimli gazing dreamily ahead. Legolas' small smile showed that he was thinking the same thing as Runíla. She faced forward again, amused yet astounded.

Long ago, an elf named Fëanor was born to Finwë, High King of the Noldor. Fëanor was the half-uncle of Lady Galadriel, and admired her greatly. He had a passion for beautiful and magnificent things, and was captivated by Galadriel's lustrous gold hair. Thrice he begged her for a single hair from her head to aid him in creating the Silmarils, three stunning and immensely powerful gems, but Galadriel refused him each time. She had been granted the power to look into other's minds, and she saw Fëanor's mind was cloaked with greed and corrupt to the core.

And now, Galadriel gave not one, but _three_ of her gleaming hairs to one whose race had long been considered an enemy of the elves, yet still became infatuated with her. Perhaps this gift was her blessing to the future of the relationship between dwarves and elves. As evil flourished in Middle Earth, they would have to put aside their dislike of each other and focus on the ever-growing threat of Mordor.

Unlike most elves, Runíla had never quite minded dwarves. She did not love them, (she believed their love of gold sometimes led them to make senseless decisions) especially because of her father's crime which led to his execution and the banishment of her and her mother and brother. It had taken her many years to come to terms with that, but she eventually realized that pride is in their nature as much as it is in hers, and that added with the rivalry between dwarves and elves, she could not expect anything less of them. Runíla later discovered that despite their pride, obsession with riches and treatment of her father, they were loyal creatures to the very marrow of their bones, and she even befriended a small group of them years ago.

No one spoke much until they camped for the night on a little rocky island with only a few gnarled trees. A sheer cliff now ran along one side of the larger branch of the river, rendering one bank impossible to land on. The darkness made all of them uneasy, cloaking both of the riverbanks in shadow.

Few of them lingered much before sleeping, as their bodies were sore and their hearts heavy upon leaving behind the tall trees and golden forests of Lothlórien. After they had left the protection of Lórien, all of them were uneasy. Gandalf's death shocked, saddened and terrified them all. The slightest noise they made in camp set them on edge, and their eyes were almost constantly trained on the shore, half expecting an orc pack to appear, ready to attack. By lighting a fire, Runíla felt that they might as well be setting off one of Gandalf's fireworks that the hobbits spoke so highly of, even if it was small enough to be fueled by a couple of twigs.

As if she was not apprehensive enough, a new, dark shadow hovered over them, one that not all of the others seemed to be aware of. Its icy breath tickled the back of her neck, its sinister voice breathing in her ear, but she could never make out what it said. Too often she had reached for an arrow, only to find that it seemed that the Fellowship were the only people for miles. She resolved to speak with Aragorn later, once they had more privacy.

Only hushed murmurs were spoken as Runíla settled with her back against a rock, drawing her cloak close to her body as she watched moonlight leap across the running water. Legolas shrugged his quiver off and leaned against the rock beside her, causing her to shift uncomfortably at their close proximity. He did not seem to notice how her jaw clenched, how her eyes never moved from the ground in front of her or how her body tensed uneasily. After a moment's silence, he opened his mouth to speak, when a raised, angry voice reached their ears.

"You are afraid!" Boromir's voice reached the others from where he and Aragorn were speaking by the water. Runíla's eyes flicked to them as Legolas closed his mouth and glared at Boromir. "All your life, you have hidden in the shadows!" By this point, the hobbits were observing him with surprise, and Runíla had risen, eyes narrowed. It did not take a genius to figure out what Boromir was alluding to. "Scared of who you are, what you are." He released Aragorn's arm, and glowered at the back of his head as Aragorn turned away, but was surprised when he whipped back around.

"I would not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city." He hissed. The corner of Runíla's mouth twitched up to see that Boromir was at loss for words. He looked taken aback and furious, his eyes straying anywhere to avoid Aragorn's gaze, and they soon fell upon Runíla.

"What are you smirking for?" He spat at her, frustrated at Aragorn. She just chuckled and shook her head, irking him further.

"You mock me." Boromir hissed.

"Only your annoying persistence in trying to direct us to the failure of this quest." The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. Galadriel's warnings echoed through her head as her words hung in the air. _Oops,_ she thought, S_o much for keeping the company together._ Behind Boromir, Aragorn sighed in exasperation, and stepped forward.

"I refuse to deal with this again." He said firmly, and grabbed Runíla's arm, yanking her over the the opposite end of the camp.

She turned towards Boromir and made an extremely rude hand gesture at him behind Aragorn's back as he dragged her away. Smirking, she figured that there was no going back after what she said, and the gesture simply summed up what she wished to say to him. Aragorn led her past the hobbits and Gimli, most of them shocked, but Pippin and the dwarf bit back a chuckle. Legolas was amused by it as well, one side of his mouth curving upwards as Aragorn made her sit as far away from Boromir as possible.

"Don't move and _don't_ talk." He ordered her, sternly.

Runíla sighed and lay down, the coolness of the rock seeping through her clothes as Aragorn took a seat by the fire. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the steadily rushing water to try and block out the awkward silence that now hung through the camp.

The next thing she knew, she opened her eyes to a pale light growing steadily in the east. Legolas stood looking out over the river, having taken watch for most of the night. Runíla stretched and went to stir the smoldering coals, coaxing them into small flames. Aragorn soon stirred and woke the hobbits and Gimli, tousle haired and bleary eyed. They stumbled around as they nibbled on lembas and gathered their few belongings. Boromir avoided most of them, occasionally giving Aragorn or Runíla a dark look.

No one spoke much, for danger felt closer with each passing day. In as little time as possible, they loaded the boats and shoved off from the shore, setting off underneath the pale morning sun.

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><p>"Say, what are those things there?" Gimli asked, gesturing to two massive stone figures in the distance.<p>

"The Argonath," Runíla answered. "Ancient kings of a once glorious kingdom."

As they grew nearer, the statues' human shapes became clear, their pointed crowns poking upwards at the sky.

"Aragorn!" Runíla called. He looked towards her, and she jerked her head towards the Argonath.

Awestruck, he tapped Frodo on the shoulder, pointing out the statues. A half-smile appeared on his face as he gazed up at his ancestors carved in stone. Something about finally laying eyes on his ancestors seemed to straighten Aragorn's back confidently and brighten his eyes. Runíla had to admit, even after coming across the Argonath several times (and even climbing onto the shoulder of one), they never failed to amaze.

Here, beneath the watchful gaze of the kings, it felt like a piece of the ancient, great kingdom of men had survived, untouched, untainted, like a precious gem encased in dull gray rock. As long as the kings of old stood tall over the water, a piece of this would remain, a shining example of what the glory of men once was.

Two walls of rock curved inwards, a large gap in between that lead to where the river opened up to a waterfall. On the edges of the rock were two towering men crafted from gray stone, their left hands outstretched in warning. Crowns adorned their heads, long robes sweeping the ground. One clutched a sword to his chest, the other grasping an axe. Runíla craned her neck to gaze up at their blank faces as the three boats passed beneath them, looking like tiny flies in comparison to the kings.

They traveled through the gap, leaving the statues behind.

* * *

><p>Pebbles crunched and shifted beneath her feet as Runíla leapt out of the boat, dragging it up onto shore. The entrance between the Argonath led to a wide lake. On either side rose green hills, fragments of stone structures distantly scattered. At the far end rumbled the great waterfall, a white spray floating upwards from the water.<p>

They gathered on the land, unloading the few things they would need for the night and making camp among the few small trees on the forest's edge. Rulíla peered into the trees, unsettled at the shadows despite the bright sunlight.

"We cross the lake at nightfall, hide the boats and continue on foot." Aragorn said. "We approach Mordor from the north."

Gimli, who disliked boats and therefore had been in an increasingly grumpy mood, was extremely displeased by this.

"Oh, yes? ! It's just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassible labyrinth of razor sharp rocks! And after that, it gets even better!" At this, Pippin glanced over at the dwarf, panicked. "Festering, stinking marshlands as far as the eye can see!"

Aragorn was patient, but stern. "That is our road. I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

"Recover my... ?!" The indignant dwarf grumbled but turned away.

Runíla looked over at Pippin, worry etched in his face, and cautiously placed a light hand on his shoulder.

"Relax." She told him. "I know my way through Emyn Muil, and Aragorn is familiar with it as well. It is not as dangerous as Gimli makes it seem."

He smiled up at her and continued to unroll his blanked, but this time with a bit more confidence.

Legolas, who had been warily eyeing the woods, hurried to Aragorn's side.

"We should leave now." He said hurriedly. Runíla rose and went to Aragorn's side as well.

"No." Aragorn insisted. "Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for cover of darkness."

"It is not the eastern shore that worries me." Legolas said darkly. "A shadow and a threat has been growing on my mind. Something draws near... I can feel it."

"I will go to look around." Runíla said, slinging her quiver over her back. "I cannot say that I am not skeptical of this place." She jogged up towards the woods, clapping Aragorn on the shoulder as she went. Pausing for a moment, she turned back and opened her mouth, about to ask Legolas to join her, but after considering it for a moment, she turned back towards the trees. But it seemed as if she would not have a choice, because he also gathered his bow and started towards her.

"I will come too." He said. "Two sets of eyes are better than one."

She nodded. He did, after all, make a point. The two of them rushed into the woods, and Runíla caught Gimli's words as they dodged the trees.

"_Elves_." He groused. "They always find a way to be dramatic."

Together, Runíla and Legolas ran a wide arc around the camp. Their pointed ears and keen eyes searched for any sign of danger, but the woods appeared empty, with the exception of a few birds tittering in the pines.

Crumbling stone steps, blanketed with fallen leaves and turned rough by the years, led to a ruined structure held up by stone pillars. Leaping up the steps, Runíla climbed to the top, scanning her eyes over a larger portion of trees. Legolas followed and stood beside her, checking the woods for any sign of movement.

Runíla was acutely aware of the small distance between them, and suddenly every breath she took sounded ten times louder. Legolas seemed unaffected, still lost in the distance. Carefully and casually, Runíla tried to inch further away from him. She stopped short when Legolas spoke.

"This forest reminds me of my home." He spoke softly. "Of course, it looks nothing like the Greenwood. A darkness has plagued it for many years now. Mirkwood is what they call it now."

"I have heard news of why stirs there now." Runíla said.

"You have not been?" Legolas turned towards her, eyebrows raised. "I would have thought the giant spiders would appeal to you." His voice was half surprised, half teasing.

"I have seen the Greatwood," She answered slowly, gazing out over the treetops. "Years before the spiders reigned. I was just a child then. Those days are long gone."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a yell not far off. They spun towards the sound, fitting arrows into their bows. Runíla leapt off onto the ground and sped into the forest.

"Head back to camp and check on the others!" She yelled.

Legolas jumped down. "Who do you think it is?" He called.

She clenched her jaw.

"Boromir."

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><p>AN: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, this chapter took forever! It is a bit longer, though. My life's been crazy ever since the holidays. I also mixed up the chapters (go me!) so this took longer. I included some background info in the beginning of this chapter, just because I thought it's interesting and relevant. So, yeah.

I suppose I should wish you guys a (very) belated Happy New Year. Sorry about that.

If you have a Tumblr, feel free to follow me at **not-my-fandom-you-bitch** for plenty of Hobbit/LOTR stuff and some Sherlock and Harry Potter.

Thanks so much for all follows, favorites, and also the reviews, especially **That-Little-Witch** - you are so kind! :) Seriously, that made my week. No joke.

Keep reviewing, no matter what your opinions are! There's always room for improvement!


	24. Chapter 24

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 24**

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><p><strong>MUST READ THIS NOTE<strong>:

I messed up on the chapters, so those of you who have already read Chapter 23, please go back and read it again. I mixed things up, added a LOT, and made some changes. So, unless you want to miss a decent sized chunk of events, please go back and read.

Enjoy!

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><p>By the time Runíla found Boromir, she had never wanted to put an arrow in his throat more.<p>

She tore through the trees, crunching leaves beneath her feet, heading towards the yell. Before long she caught sight of a large, dark figure crumpled on the ground, shaking slightly. He raised his head as she neared, leaves snared in his tangled hair, a few tear tracks gleaming on his cheeks.

"Not you!" He snarled, scrambling up. "Not now!" Suddenly, he dropped rough demeanor, falling to his knees again, tears flowing. "Not just when you have the most valid reason to despise me."

Cautiously, Runíla stowed away her bow and arrow and approached him, wary. Boromir was a strong, noble man. Tears were not supposed to show on men such as him.

"What have you done?" She asked carefully. He did not respond, he simply buried his face in his hands. "Boromir," she said, urgently now, "What did you do?"

Slowly, he let his hands drop from his face, keeping his eyes fixed on the forest floor.

"Frodo -" He began, choking on his words. "I tried to take the Ring from him. By force."

There were a number of inappropriate comments that Runíla wished she could say at that moment, but luckily she had the sense and strength to keep to her mouth shut and her anger contained, for this was neither the time nor the place for petty insults, no matter how furious her anger was. Boromir slumped, ashamed, hands folded in his lap. Runíla sighed.

"Get up, _honestly_!"

He raised his head, half surprised, half apprehensive. Grabbing his cloak, she yanked him up, clearly impatient.

"Get up! You may be an arse, but you're still of use, aren't you?" She released him. "We ought to -"

Light, fast footsteps caught her attention, soft noises that Boromir could not hear at first. Runíla turned, drawing her bow, but relaxed it as Legolas burst into view, sprinting towards them.

"Frodo has gone missing." He said hurriedly.

"I know _that_ already, thanks to him." Runíla jerked her head in Boromir's direction. "But we have no time for that now." She said after taking in Legolas' confused look.

"The others have split up to go looking for him." Legolas said. "But I fear the enemy is much closer than we thought."

"How close?" Runíla's jaw clenched.

"Too close."

At that moment, the distant echo of metal clanging against metal rang through the forest. In a flash, Legolas and Runíla had arrows nocked into their bows, and Boromir, now collected, held his sword ready.

"It must be Aragorn!" Legolas said. "He was the only other one who came this way."

"Boromir, go find the others! Warn them, tell them to meet by the boats!" Runíla ordered. "We must cross to the eastern shore as soon as possible."

He nodded, grim, and rushed through the trees. He was fully prepared to make up for his mistake.

As Boromir disappeared, heavy breathing and clinking chain mail announced Gimli's arrival.

"This way, Gimli!" Legolas called as he and Runíla sprinted towards the battle.

They tore up the hill, Runíla unsheathing her swords as they ran. The clashes grew louder, now mixed with low, heavy grunts that sounded far from human. Reaching the top of the hill, they burst into the battle. Runíla immediately spun, slicing one orc's unprotected stomach and stabbing another in the throat. But as she shoved another off of her blade, she realized that these Uruk-hai were unlike any she had seen before. Taller, broader and with arms rippling with muscle, they wielded short, broad swords with immense force. They were far more powerful than any orc she had ever faced. And far more bloodthirsty.

She ducked, avoiding another's sword, finishing him off by slicing his head clean off. Aragorn stood a short distance away, several Uruk-hai lying limp at his feet. Countless Uruk-hai had already fallen victim to Legolas' arrows, and Gimli swung his axe with a ferocity that exceeded his height.

Runíla parried thrust after thrust, her swords soon coated with blood to the hilt. Her heart pounded with the thrill of battle, but despite her eagerness, she knew that if wave after wave of Uruk-hai kept coming, then there was only so long the three of them could last. Stabbing backwards into an Uruk's thigh, she spun, finishing him off with a thrust into his stomach.

"Aragorn!" She yelled. "We need to find -" A charging Uruk-hai cut her off, snarling, his sword raised high above his head. She sliced his unprotected midsection and he crumpled. "We need to find the others!" She finished.

He nodded, jerking his head towards the trees where several Uruk-hai had disappeared. They took off, Legolas and Gimli covering their backs. Once in the trees, if was clear that there were more Uruks than Runíla expected. Immediately, one rushed up to her, but was quickly taken down by a sharp blow with the pommel of her sword and a blade in his back.

She and Aragorn ran with Legolas and Gimli on their heels, stopping often to cut down oncoming Uruk-hai. Before them, black shapes dodged trees and ruins as they rushed forward, heading towards something. Their numbers no longer scared Runíla. But what they were heading for did. For all they knew it could be Merry and Pippin, unprepared and unprotected.

Runíla looked back at Legolas, Gimli and Aragorn, four particularly persistent Uruk-hai piled at her feet. Aragorn struggled, but an Uruk-hai had his sword hand and throat in a tight grip. Runíla grabbed the Uruk's helmet from behind, tilting his head back and catching him by surprise. With one quick slash, she sliced his throat and he fell, gurgling.

All action seemed to halt as three loud calls of a horn sounded not far off. Runíla immediately thought of the one member of the Fellowship it could belong to.

Boromir.

Worry was evident on Legolas' face. "The Horn of Gondor."

"Aragorn, _go_," Runíla urged. "We'll be behind you."

He took off down the slope of the hill, kicking up leaves as he went. Runíla felled another, pushing her sword to its hilt in an Uruk's back. Legolas took care of several who threatened to come closer, never failing to hit his mark. They followed Aragorn at a jog, but were often stopped by Uruk-hai.

Crouching low to the ground, Runíla kicked out her leg, sweeping the feet out from under another, silencing his growl by thrusting her sword into his face. She turned to make sure she hadn't lost Legolas, and panicked as she saw an Uruk-hai rushing him from behind. With a cry, she launched herself onto the Uruk-hai's back, tackling him to the ground. One foot pinned his sword arm down, the other pressed into his chest. Before he could raise his shield in defense, Runíla slashed his throat open, blood spurting onto the leaves.

Legolas whipped around at her cry, surprised.

"Hurry!" She pressed, leaping forward to dispatch another before following Aragorn's path.

Gaps in the trees allowed them to glimpse ahead, but Aragorn had vanished from sight. Runíla darted forward, no longer concerned with taking down every Uruk-hai that crossed her path. Agitated, she thought for a moment that she caught a flash of something ahead, but she thought, _No, it cannot be_... Her stomach lurched and she picked up her pace. But what she saw soon became clearer. Runíla slowed as she, Legolas and Gimli finally reached Aragorn. Countless bodies of Uruk-hai were strewn about the glade. A soft light filtered in through the trees, falling on Aragorn and the broken body beside him.

Boromir's eyes drifted to Runíla for a moment, then back to Aragorn. He said something, quietly. Runíla blocked out his words, not wanting to intrude. But her eyes were drawn to the three black arrows protruding from his chest, and the little trails of blood seeping from the wounds.

Holding Aragorn's gaze, his body stiffened and moved no more.

Runíla blinked several times. She wanted to look anywhere but his body, but she found she couldn't quite tear her eyes away. Even the smallest sound washed heavily through her ears, and her body felt stiff. She did not move a muscle, nor feel she was able to.

Aragorn, bloody and battered, pressed a hand to his forehead, and then his lips, and kissed Boromir's brow. He rose, proud and tall beside the fallen soldier.

"They will look for his coming from the White Tower. But he will not return." A solitary tear glinted in the sunlight as it made its way down his face.

The four of them stood, silent, but inside Runíla's mind was screaming. Every cruel, snide comment she had ever said to him rang through her head. And she was ashamed. He never truly deserved any of it. She saw now that they may not have agreed on much, but he had made the most noble of sacrifices. His last stand was an apology - a way of showing Frodo and the others how much he truly regretted what he did. Beliefs aside, Boromir was good and true to his very core. Looking at the limp, blood-spattered figure resting on the leaves almost made her dizzy as she realized just how stupid, childish, _petty_ their feud was, especially her side of it.

"What should we do with him?" Legolas said quietly after a moment.

"He deserves a burial." Runíla insisted.

Aragorn nodded. "A proper one."

"But we do not have the time to do it properly." Gimli pointed out. "We ought to find the other hobbits."

"Let us at least bring him back to the camp." Runíla said.

The others agreed and began to gather his scattered possessions. Runíla caught a glint of silver from the corner of her eye, turned, and knelt by the body of an Uruk-hai. She prodded his blackened skin, her upper lip curling in disgust. Flipping him over, she noticed a dagger embedded deeply in his throat. Grasping the handle, she yanked it out and wiped it on the leaves beside her. It was a simple, straight blade, with a silver handle wrapped in leather, worn in various places. Glancing at the others, she slipped it into her boot.

His body was heavy. It took both Aragorn and Legolas to carry him to the camp. Runíla led them bearing his rounded shield, Gimli at her side. They walked as fast as they could while still being careful, fearful of jilting the body.

At the beach, Frodo and Sam could be seen almost at the other shore in one of the boats, but they did not follow them yet.

Gently, Boromir was laid on the ground, and one of the two boats emptied. Gimli placed many swords of Uruk-hai that had fallen to Boromir's hand in the bottom, and at last, Boromir was lain on the planks. Aragorn reached out with slightly shaky hands, closing his eyelids and straightening the sword that he clutched to his chest. Runíla placed the battered shield at his head.

Before the others could react, she drew her bow, firing an arrow into the prow. It's deep red feather stuck out at a slight angle like a torch or figurehead.

"A salute." She told the others simply. Silently, they understood.

Despite their differences, he was a warrior fallen in battle and she would honor that. And still, despite their differences, she could not ignore the regret that crashed over her as heavily as the water that pulled the boat over the falls, red fletched arrow and all.

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><p>As the boat vanished, the haze that hung over the four began to lift. Runíla tore her eyes from the mists rising from the falls and turned to Aragorn. He tightened the leather straps on two vambraces that he took from Boromir, looking remarkably composed. Legolas, however, seemed to be in more of a rush.<p>

"Hurry!" He called, shoving the last remaining boat off the beach. "Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore."

He looked to Runíla, expecting her to follow him, but her eyes remained fixed on Aragorn, studying him. Legolas' gaze shifted from her to him.

"You mean not to follow them?" He asked, astounded. Aragorn looked to the other side and watched Frodo and Sam make their way through the trees.

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands." Aragorn answered quietly.

"Then it has all been in vain!" Moaned Gimli. "The Fellowship has failed."

But Runíla disagreed. They had protected each other, helped each other when it was needed, and that was far from useless.

"Not if we hold true to each other." Aragorn, bruised and bloody, seemed to straighten up with new energy, placing a hand first on Runíla's shoulder, then on Gimli's. "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left."

Runíla's face lifted with a half-smile, finding herself filled with new purpose and an increased thirst for revenge.

"Leave all that can be spared behind." He told them, stepping back and sheathing a long knife. "We travel light."

He looked them in the eyes.

"Let's hunt some orc."

He turned and sprinted off into the woods. Runíla, Legolas and Gimli all shared glances, and, with a smirk upon her face, Runíla sprang forward and followed him, the others on her tail.

And so the Fellowship went their separate ways; one left in Moria, another fallen at Amon Hen, two captured by the enemy, four set out to rescue them, and two small hobbits, much farther from home than they had ever been, setting forth alone with the weight of all of Middle Earth on their shoulders.

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><p><em>May it be<br>an evening star  
>Shines down upon you<br>May it be  
>when darkness falls<br>Your heart will be true  
>You walk a lonely road<br>Oh! How far you are from home  
>Mornië utúlië<br>Believe and you will find your way  
>Mornië alantië<br>A promise lives within you now._

_May it be_  
><em>the shadow's call<em>  
><em>Will fly away<em>  
><em>May it be<em>  
><em>you journey on<em>  
><em>To light the day<em>  
><em>When the night is overcome<em>  
><em>You may rise to find the sun.<em>

_Mornië utúlië_  
><em>Believe and you will find your way<em>  
><em>Mornië alantië<em>  
><em>A promise lives within you now<em>  
><em>A promise lives within you now.<em>

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><p>AN: Wow. The end of The Fellowship of the Ring. It's about time!<p>

I'm so sorry I haven't been good about updating. I went to the Inauguration and then got very sick and have also just been very busy.

Please review, favorite, follow, or anything! Your support is greatly appreciated. I do love feedback, and please be honest!

See you next time, with The Two Towers!


	25. Chapter 25

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 25**

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><p>The sun, burning like molten gold, dipped beneath the distant hills after the third day of pursuit. Darkness fell quickly, but Aragorn, Runíla, Legolas and Gimli's pace never slowed (well, Gimli's did, but he was never too far behind).<p>

It had been three days since the Four Hunters set out after Merry and Pippin; three days since Boromir fell and Frodo and Sam continued to Mordor alone. They had long left behind the trees, and then steep slopes, and were now traveling across uneven, grassy land interrupted by crags of weathered grey rock. Running without sleep and little food and water, the four had pushed themselves to their limits and beyond. Even the elves, rarely tired and hardly ever hungry, were beginning to feel at least a little bit weary. But by some incredible force, they never ceased in the chase.

Poor Gimli, however, was exhausted after the first hour and simply stayed exhausted for the next few days. Wheezing, he struggled to keep up with the long legs of Runíla, Legolas and Aragorn, his chain mail clinking with each step. They always made sure to glance back every so often just to be certain he had not collapsed a ways back, but he seemed to possess a remarkable endurance that surpassed his stature, surprising the others.

They had barely spoken over the past few days, for all of their breath was focused on leading them towards the unfortunate hobbits, most likely tied up and being carried about like potato sacks. Aragorn and Runíla's eyes skimmed the grass for signs of their quarry. The Uruk-hai were not difficult to track, and it appeared they made no effort to change that. It seemed their brutish and bloodthirsty nature gave them the boldness to believe that no enemy would dare to face them, and if they did, then they would surely be ripped to pieces. Their boots left deep prints in the soft ground over twice the size of Runíla's. Soon, they were aware that they were slowly but steadily gaining on them.

The night passed quickly. They did not stop, not even to dig a loaf of lembas bread from their belongings, instead eating as they sped by rocks and banks. On the morning of the fourth day, the sun gradually climbed into the sky, throwing four speeding shadows against the grass.

Throughout the journey, Runíla, Legolas and Aragorn had traded off leading the group, who followed one by one. By midmorning, it was Runíla who headed them, with Legolas on her heels. As she ran, her mind wandered randomly, though Merry and Pippin always lingered in her thoughts. But she was torn from her reverie when light footsteps grew louder from behind her.

Legolas.

Runíla frowned. Being as proud as she was, she never liked giving up her position, and currently she was quite comfortable leading the others. So she picked up her pace. To her surprise, he sped up too, just a bit. Runíla felt her fiercely competitive nature beginning to surface, and she accelerated. He added another burst of speed until he ran beside her, a small teasing smile on his face. She cocked an eyebrow at him and narrowed her eyes, matching his pace, and Legolas' smile grew. Runíla surprised him by shooting forward unexpectedly, arms pumping as she sprinted. His laughter was swept away by the wind as he too burst forward.

The two of them raced forward like lightning, the wind tearing at their hair and clothes. Their feet seemed to skim the ground, hardly touching it. Runíla felt her heart swell with excitement and exhilaration, all thoughts of the enemy fading from her mind. The wind tore the breath from their throats and whipped around their ears making them oblivious to Aragorn's shouts. All they could see was an electrifying blur of green, grey and brown landscape. Matching each other stride for stride, neither seemed to get ahead of the other, and yet neither seemed to want to. Runíla glanced at Legolas. He looked every bit as thrilled as she; his eyes widened, hair streaming back. Slowly, a smile began to spread on her face, and she turned her gaze forwards again. She chased away the clouds from her mind, Legolas at her side.

But as soon as it began, it ended as Legolas stopped short. She halted, turning back to see what was the matter.

"We ought to wait for Aragorn and Gimli." Legolas said, gesturing to the small figures in the distance trying desperately to catch up.

His eyes were still bright with excitement, his hair just a bit mussed from the wind. Runíla nodded, tucking strands of her own fiery windswept hair into her braid. She did not even notice the smile that stretched across her face. She had needed that small moment of carelessness, freedom, more than she knew.

Aragorn was swift, and they did not have to wait long for him to catch up. He slowed as he reached them, looking weary but determined.

"That was... childish," he said, trying to regain his breath, and Runíla braced herself for a criticism. "but in the future... do not stray so far."

Legolas nodded. At that moment Gimli staggered forth, gulping great, deep breaths. He bent over, hands on his knees, trying to regain his breath in the precious time they stood still.

Aragorn shook his head and he said no more. There was no wrong in trying to find a little entertainment, especially now. And besides, he had never seen Runíla smile like that before.

They took off again, this time with Aragorn in the lead, and once more fell into silence (except for Gimli's occasional grumblings), but it gave Runíla plenty of time to think.

Runíla hated being tied down. She knew that. But having someone willing to run beside you, she decided, was not so bad.

* * *

><p>The Four Hunters soon settled back into a steady rhythm, chasing the sun across the terrain. Jagged mountain peaks rose into the sky, the grass that covered the hills like carpet beneath their feet. They were nearing the border of the land of Rohan. Aragorn remained at the front of the group, tracking the movements of the enemy.<p>

Runíla was beginning to feel the previous days taking a toll on her, but she kept pushing forward with a fierce vigor. It was indeed a great feat, even for an elf, to travel the distance they had in such a short amount of time. Their pace quickened even more as the Uruk-hai picked up were no signs of Merry and Pippin traveling with them, and they had no choice but simply to pray for the two hobbits.

But that afternoon, they found a reason to press on even harder.

Aragorn halted so suddenly that Runíla nearly tripped over him. He crouched, his hands prying something from the ground as Legolas stood over curiously. Runíla was not sure if she was supposed to be glad that the hobbits were alive or devastated that they had been killed, for in Aragorn's hand lay a stunning green brooch. It was identical to the one that fastened all of their cloaks.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall." Aragorn said quietly.

"They may yet be alive." Legolas breathed.

"Or they could be dead." Runíla added darkly, earning her a glare from Aragorn.

"We musn't think of that, not now. Either way, they are less than a day ahead of us." Aragorn said. "Come!"

"Come, Gimli!" called Legolas as they continued on. "We are gaining on them!"

The dwarf promptly tumbled down the grassy slope, landing with a _thud_ and a crash of metal. He picked himself up and hobbled after the others.

"I'm wasted on cross-country." Gimli grumbled from the rear. "We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!"

* * *

><p>The mid afternoon sun was high in the sky when they halted once more. Wide plains stretched before them broken up by large stones and small hillocks. This was a land Runíla knew well, for she had traveled through it while criss-crossing across Middle Earth.<p>

"Rohan." Aragorn said, looking out over the plains from the peak of a rock. "Land of the horse-lords. There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."

Runíla and Legolas took advantage of the vast landscape, leaping forward to see what their keen vision could detect of the enemy.

"Runíla, Legolas, what do you elf eyes see?" He called.

Runíla scanned the landscape, then focused in on a mass of tiny black figures moving quickly away from them. Her eyes widened as her gaze swept the horizon before them. They were heading towards a single, unmistakable spire in the distance, one that Runíla never thought Uruks would be able to stray near.

The tower of Orthanc.

"The Uruks turn northeast!" shouted Legolas. His eyes were just as wide as Runíla's. "They're taking the hobbits to Isenguard!"

"Saruman." Aragorn breathed.

Runíla heard that the wizard had become corrupted by Sauron's evil, but she never even dreamed that he would breed such vicious beasts.

"He is responsible for this! If he has created those... those _monsters_," Runíla spat, "then who knows what else he has stuck his hand into, what else he could be _breeding_."

They all shared worried looks. But the thought of the hobbits nearing that vile place was too much to keep them standing still for long, and soon they were off again.

* * *

><p>AN: Greetings, and welcome to The Two Towers! Well, this was interesting to write. It definitely did _not_ turn out the way I planned, but I quite like it, actually. It shows a more fun, innocent side of Runíla and Legolas that I think everyone has (regardless of race), but is not always seen, especially in elves. I just wanted to show a more entertaining side of them that PJ didn't really show in the movies, but it is clear in the books, even if it is different from this. I guess I was just sick of writing elves so stiffly.

Review please! I would love to know what all of you think! Plus, it motivates me to update more... *hint hint* *wink wink* *nudge nudge*

Thanks for the support!


	26. Chapter 26

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 26**

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><p><strong>NOTE: If you are interested, there's a bit about Runíla's temper in the Author's Note at the bottom in response to a comment by <strong>Charlotte818**. Check it out and tell me your thoughts!**

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><p>Before long the weather-beaten rocks grew scarce, replaced by gentle grassy rolls of earth, ideal land for horses. The Uruk-hai were making good time, but the Four Hunters relentless pursuit began to work in their favor. The tracks proved that they were just over half a day behind, and gaining quickly.<p>

By early morning, it was Runíla at the head of the group, scanning for tracks. A few things had caught her eye; a footprint in the mud, a patch of trampled grass, some spilled liquid which smelled like strong alcohol; all things that showed that she, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were on the right track.

But soon she stopped. Bending down, she brushed her fingers over the dirt. A pack of something had passed that way about a day ago judging by the hardened earth. It was not the Uruk-hai, that much was certain, for these prints crossed over the path they took and the tracks, although mysterious, were not the ones they had tracked over the past few days. Runíla moved a few feet to the left, examining other prints. One in particular stood out - a clear, wide hoof print, probably the last to be made as it lay above the others.

"Aragorn!" She called. He jogged to her side and crouched. "The Rohirrim passed this way about a day ago." She gestured to the tracks. "It is likely they are still in the area."

"What do we have to fear from some horse lords?" Gimli asked. "They are not in league with Sauron."

"But their king takes counsel from Saruman." Runíla said darkly. "If he has betrayed us to Sauron, he may have persuaded them to join him. He works a powerful magic over the mind."

"You are right." Aragorn nodded. "If they have sided with him they will not take kindly to us trespassing within their borders. But I do not think that is likely. The people of Rohan are hardy folk, not always learned but with a good head upon their shoulders. Their king is reasonable and I believe he would not take that path."

His words seemed to reassure the others.

"Also, Gandalf visited here before the council in Ímladris, did he not?" Legolas added. "He said himself he had an inkling of Saruman's true nature. Perhaps he had time to warn them."

"I think that is possible. Should we encounter any people of Rohan, I do not believe they shall be a threat." Aragorn agreed. "Now, come! We must close in on the Uruks before they reach Isenguard."

* * *

><p>It started quietly, like a distant roll of thunder warning you of an approaching storm. Runíla halted, searching the landscape. A large group of horses ridden by men armed with shining spears galloped towards them nearing fast, green banners snapping in the air.<p>

"Aragorn! Legolas!" She called. "They are nearly upon us!"

With one quick glance at the riders, Aragorn bolted across the crest of the hill, taking cover behind a large rock, the others on his heels. He had just pulled Gimli behind the rock when the riders thundered by, shaking the earth beneath their feet. They crouched, Aragorn sharing an edgy look with Legolas and Runíla. He stepped out onto the hill, the other three behind him.

"Riders of Rohan!" Aragorn called. "What news from the Mark?"

The leader of the riders held up his spear and the group turned, green cloaks billowing behind them. The four held their ground as the riders circled back and expertly maneuvered their mounts into a tight formation, trapping them. Spears were lowered down, their gleaming points tickling Aragorn, Runíla, Legolas and Gimli threateningly.

One man rode to the front, parting the lines. "What business do two elves, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!" He commanded.

"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine." Gimli retorted.

The man leapt leapt from his horse with ease, another rider taking his staff. He was around the same height as Aragorn, well-built and proud, but weariness and bitterness showed in his face.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood a little higher from the ground." He spat.

Surprisingly, it was not Runíla who snapped at his remark, it was Legolas. Swiftly he drew his bow, the arrow's tip aiming for the man's head.

"You would die before your stroke fell." He hissed.

He seemed oblivious to the spears that had immediately been raised at him, ready to strike, but Runíla was not. She placed a hand on his arm, pointing his bow downwards and giving him an imploring look in the tense silence. He relaxed his bow, but he continued to glower at the man. Runíla turned and glared at several of the riders, and they relaxed their spears slightly.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin and Legolas of the Woodland Realm, and that is Runíla of..." Aragorn trailed off.

"Of Middle-Earth." Runíla finished.

The man raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but said nothing, still under Legolas' icy stare.

"We are friends of Rohan, and of Théoden, your king." Aragorn reassured him.

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." He said grimly. He pulled off his helm, revealing mussed light colored hair. "Not even his own kin."

At this, the riders drew back their spears, holding them by their sides so they no longer threatened Aragorn, Legolas, Runíla and Gimli.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands." He continued. "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning." He lowered his voice, shifting his gaze between the four that stood before him. "He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He stopped in front of Legolas, giving him a threatening look.

"What are you -" Runíla started angrily, but Aragorn cut her off.

"We are no spies." He reasoned. "We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive."

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." The man answered.

"But they were there! Were there two hobbits, halflings, anywhere?" Runíla asked desperately.

"They would be small - only children to your eyes." Aragorn added.

The man looked down ruefully for a moment. "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He pointed to a slowly smoking black heap in the distance.

"Dead?" Gimli's voice sounded slightly strangled. Runíla wasn't sure if she would have trusted her own voice then.

The man nodded. "I am sorry."

Legolas squeezed Runíla's shoulder gently, but she did not feel it. The man turned, whistling shrilly.

"Hasufel! Arod! Gelion!" He called. Three horses moved up and the man handed one to Legolas, one to Aragorn and another to Runíla. "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. I apologize, Lady, that you cannot ride side-saddle." He spoke to Runíla.

She gave him a cold smile that clearly did not reach her eyes. "I think I will be fine."

"Farewell." He nodded and placed his helm back on his head, heaving himself up onto his horse. "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope." He said darkly, looking down upon them from the back of his horse, spear in hand. "It has forsaken these lands."

With that he spurred his horse forward, leading the riders galloping away across the plain. The four stood there, the three horses by their sides as they numbly watched them thunder away until the fluttering banners could no longer be seen.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello, all! As a massive snowstorm rages outside my window, I'd like to address a comment made in a review the other day. <strong>Charlotte818<strong> very cleverly pointed out that Runíla's fiery temper clashes with the peaceful nature of the elves. Charlotte (I assume that is your name) brings up a fantastic point. Runíla has not had much interaction with people save for when she was very young. She has few friends and she divides the little time she spends with them among other races besides elves. Over the years, she has distanced herself from them (being an outcast doesn't help much). Runíla is an elf by race, perhaps, but not completely by nature. She doesn't quite have the self-control others do. I guess you could say it's kind of like Aragorn being raised by the elves; by spending time with the elves away from his own race he became different from them (not as different as Runíla, but still). I think that having your life torn apart like hers makes you quite bitter and it probably builds up inside of her over the years and she finally needs to get it out somehow. Thank you very much for asking that, Charlotte (assuming you will read this). If you have any other comments, please share them!

Also, follow me on Tumblr for Hobbit/Lotr, Sherlock and Harry Potter stuff! My URL is **not-my-fandom-you-bitch**.

Sorry. Kind of a short one today.

Thanks for reading!


	27. Chapter 27

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 27**

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><p>Runíla leapt from the back of Gelion, the breeze stirring the grass of the plain. A dark, impenetrable-looking barrier of twisted trees marked the edge of Fangorn Forest, giving off an air of foreboding. But the forest, however troubling did not hold her attention.<p>

Near the border a pile of charred, unidentifiable bodies and blades blackened by flame were heaped. Arrows pierced the ground around it, the wind blowing smoke in every direction.

Runíla gave Gelion a swift pat before rushing to Aragorn's side. Beside the mound a spear stuck out of the ground, the gruesome severed head of an Uruk-hai impaled on its tip, his black tongue lolling out. Legolas helped Gimli off their white mount. The four stood around simply in disbelief. Gimli rifled through the pile with his axe, but Runíla could not quite bring herself to do the same. The idea of finding one or both of the scorched hobbits, hair and clothes singed off, skin burnt, was too horrific. Gimli pulled something from the pile, holding it in his hand like it was a precious jewel.

"It's one of their wee belts." He said quietly.

Legolas closed his eyes and bowed his head, whispering a prayer barely audible over the wind. "_Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath_."

_Death_. It always comes to the innocent before the tainted.

Runíla was startled when Aragorn gave a raw, outraged cry and kicked an orc helmet, enraged. He fell to his knees and slumped, defeated, head hanging.

"Gone, then." Runíla said bitterly. "The most pure in heart of the Company are gone. We ought to be in their place."

Aragorn raised his head slightly, looking at the earth in front of him. "A hobbit lay here," he said quietly. "and the other."

He began to move forward, brow furrowed. "They crawled..."

Runíla followed him, her breath catching in her throat as Aragorn gained momentum. Scuff marks from elbows, knees and feet scraping the ground were clearly not large enough for any servant of Mordor. "Their hands were bound." His fingertips skimmed the ground, his voice growing steadily louder. "Their bonds were cut." He peeled a frayed rope from where in was hidden in the earth.

Excitement coursed through Runíla, and she did not even bother keeping herself from putting her faith into what could be a false hope. Her eyes scanned the ground along with Aragorn's for any signs of Merry and Pippin.

"They ran over here..." Aragorn straightened up, following the barely detectable footprints. "And were followed."

Heavy footprints left marks above the hobbits'. "The tracks lead away from the battle!" Aragorn called back in earnest. "Into... Fangorn Forest."

He halted before the dense line of gnarled trunks. The forest did give off a certain feeling of uneasiness; a quiet anger, one that Runíla could not quite place.

"Fangorn! What madness drove them there?" Gimli asked.

* * *

><p>The air was thick and stifling the deeper into the forest they went. Moss hung limply from warped branches, and the trees' roots were thick and delved deep.<p>

It was different from the last time she entered it; now the branches reached out crooked fingers threateningly, and the upper limbs allowed less light as if the forest was attempting to shield itself.

Runíla felt the way the roots snaked down through soil to a greater depth than any forest she believed she had ever walked through. This forest had stood through many winters, certainly more than Runíla, and she felt almost humbled in their presence.

Gimli spat something from from his mouth, revolted, and grumbled something about orc blood. Runíla and Aragorn led the way trying to follow the barely distinguishable tracks of Merry and Pippin as best they could. Not far in, Runíla saw the tracks halt abruptly, as if the hobbits had just disappeared into thin air.

"Aragorn!" She called. "Look here. The tracks just... stop, as if they simply vanished. And here it looks like a tree has been uprooted." She pointed just ahead of the footprints where the earth was turned up.

Aragorn inspected them more closely and the moved forward. "These are strange tracks." He said quietly.

Wide, deep tracks marked the soil in a roughly circular shape. "Whatever it is, it has an immense stride." Runíla said, pointing to where the next track lay, over fifteen feet away. "It could be the work of Saruman."

"The air is so close in here!" Gimli said, oblivious.

"This forest is old." Legolas said quietly. "Very old. Full of memory... and anger."

The branches gave a sudden low, drawn out moan. Gimli, alarmed, raised his axe.

"The trees are speaking to each other." Legolas looked in awe of the forest.

"Gimli, lower your axe!" Aragorn commanded and he reluctantly obeyed.

"They have feelings, my friend." Legolas smiled. "The Elves began it: waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Again, Runíla was surprised by Legolas' cordial behavior towards the dwarf. _Since when have they been close?_ She wondered.

"Talking trees." scoffed Gimli. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Runíla raised her eyebrows, biting back a laugh. Suddenly the faint traces of mirth vanished from Legolas' face. He looked to Runíla, worried.

"_Nad no ennas_." He said darkly.

Aragorn and Runíla hurried to his side, trying to make out any shapes in the gloom. Runíla thought she caught the sound of a branch snapping, and perhaps the swish of a cloak in the dead silence.

"_Man cenich_?" Aragorn breathed.

Legolas' eyes flicked to the right as leaves rustled softly. Runíla's hand went casually to the hilt of her longest throwing knife, grasping it lightly.

"The White Wizard approaches." He murmured.

"Do not let him speak!" Aragorn hissed. "He will put a spell on us."

Runíla nodded. They all tightened their grip on their weapons. The subtle noises grew closer and closer until Runíla felt Saruman was almost directly behind them.

"Strike fast and hard." She told the others. Legolas met her eyes nodding, his gaze hard.

They spun around to a blinding white light and wielded their various weapons. Legolas loosed his arrow and Gimli flung his axe, both of which were deflected. Aragorn's sword glowed as if it was being heated in a scorching furnace and he dropped it, clutching his hand. Runíla, overtaken by anger, hurled her knife at the figure in the center of the light, but it was also blocked and flew back landing in the earth between her feet. She was about to unleash her swords when the wizard spoke.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits." The voice was undeniably Saruman's, however there was something different about it that could hardly be perceived. The light slowly began to dim giving the figure a clearer shape.

"You would know their whereabouts better than us!" Runíla snarled.

"They passed this way, the day before yesterday." Saruman's voice now seemed mingled with one that felt familiar and less threatening to Runíla. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

Runíla was still suspicious. "Who are you?" Aragorn demanded, holding up an arm to shield his eyes from the light. "Show yourself!"

The light softened and in the faint gleam Runíla recognized a face that she had thought she would only only ever see in memory.

Gandalf, dressed in white, stood before them, taller and prouder with a smooth white staff in hand. His beard and hair were a pure white now, but his eyes gleamed with the same wisdom and kindliness that they had throughout all the many years Runíla had known him. No spell of Saruman's could truly replicate that. She looked up at him with an expressionless face but as he looked at each of them in turn he knew that was not what she truly felt.

"It cannot be." Aragorn was awestruck.

Legolas quickly knelt, followed by Gimli. "Forgive me." He said, his head lowered. "I mistook you for Saruman."

"I am Saruman." Gandalf answered. "Or rather Saruman as he should have been."

Aragorn struggled to form words. "You fell." He managed, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Through fire, and water." Gandalf's eyes darkened as he recounted his ordeal. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside." Gandalf suddenly seemed very far away. "Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again."

"You are Valar sent, Gandalf." Runíla said, amazed.

He smiled down upon her. "Gandalf?" He was confused for a moment. "Oh, yes. That is what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." He seemed amused. "I am Gandalf the White. And I have come back to you now, at the turn of the tide."

* * *

><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Hiro hyn hîdh ab 'wanath... May they find peace after death._

_Nad no ennas... Something's out there._

_Man cenich... What do you see?_

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><p>AN: Hey everyone! Hope you liked the chapter. Gandalf's rebirth has always been one of my favorite parts of <em>The Two Towers,<em> I can only hope I did it justice.

Thanks a bunch to everyone who has reviewed! You guys are the _best_, seriously. And I'm fine, **XxKickingYourAxX**, thanks for asking. :) We did get several feet of snow and (can you believe it?) it's been raining all day today. :( To **ShadowNinja97**, I checked to make sure everything was OK with the chapter and it worked for me. I hope you got it sorted out. If not, let me know and maybe I can get it to you another way. And to **bntjammer**, Runíla will be a much bigger part of the story soon. There's just been so much darn running lately! :)

Please keep reviewing! I really love whatever comments you have to share.

Thanks for reading!


	28. Chapter 28

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 28**

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><p>The subtle radiance that Gandalf seemed to emit carve a path through the shadows of Fangorn, dimmed only slightly by the grey cloak he now wore over his white robes. He moved now with a vigor that Runíla had never seen in him before; he struck quickly through the undergrowth with purpose and determination. He led them quickly but carefully through the trees back the way they came. The others followed him eagerly, still in awe at their friend's reappearance.<p>

As they walked, they told him of their stay in Lórien and of the fall of Boromir. He was deeply saddened, as were the others for the wound of his passing was still fresh. None of them mentioned Frodo or the Ring; it was not safe to speak of such things when the enemy's spies lurked around every corner.

"One stage of your journey is over." Gandalf said. "Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

"We hear of trouble in Rohan. It goes ill with the king." Aragorn informed him.

"Yes, and it will not be easily cured." Gandalf said grimly.

"Then have we run all this way for nothing?" Gimli asked, aghast. "Are we to leave those poor hobbits here... in this horrid, dark, dank, _tree-infested_ -" Long, rumbling groans shook the trees. Gimli jumped. "I mean, charming, quite charming forest." He hurriedly covered up.

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn." Gandalf said turning back to Gimli, that familiar, frustrating, all-knowing glint in his eye. "A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones... that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

"Speak to the point for once, Gandalf!" Runíla protested. Having never been much for riddles herself, she hated when he slyly beat around the bush.

"Where's the fun in that?" He smiled back at her kindly, then turned his gaze to the wizened trees. "A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up... and find that they are strong."

"Strong?" Gimli said quickly, prompting another drawn-out groan from the trees. "Oh, that's good."

"Stop your fretting, Master Dwarf." Gandalf scoffed, starting forwards again. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

Runíla quite enjoyed the look on Gimli's face.

"The new Gandalf's more grumpy that the old one." He muttered.

The forest steadily grew thinner and brighter and the air lighter and more breathable as they reached the edge. Runíla reckoned they had several minutes left when suddenly bright sunlight burned her vision and a strong wind tugged at her hair. Narrowing her eyes against the light, she saw the now-familiar rolling plains beneath a vivid blue sky. The others emerged blinking rapidly and shielding their eyes.

Gelion, Arod and Hasufel waited patiently, a tuft of grass protruding from Gelion's wobbling mouth. Runíla took his reins along with Hasufel's and led them to the others, Legolas at her side with Arod. Runíla had just noticed Gandalf's lack of mount when he gave a sharp whistle, high and clear. The wind seemed to sweep it along across the land carrying it to the farthest reaches of the plain. The others waited expectantly as he whistled again, this time a lower note. For a moment it was almost silence, just the wind gusting, but it was soon broke by a high-pitched whinny and patter of hooves muffled by the earth. Over the crest of a hill came a horse more noble and elegant than any Runíla had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat as it cantered forward, its coat a pure, almost luminous white except for a soft gray muzzle. Gandalf smiled as the horse slowed to a trot and then a walk, the wind catching its long white mane.

"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas said, awestruck. "Unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

It halted directly in front of Gandalf, who ran a hand down its smooth, powerful neck. Gimli even bowed to the horse.

"Shadowfax." Gandalf murmured. "He is the Lord of all horses and he has been my friend through many dangers."

"You take the strangest company, Mithrandir." Runíla shook her head.

"You're one to talk." He retorted, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile.

* * *

><p>They hastened to Edoras with all speed. The horses, bred for incredible speed and endurance, sped easily over the land. Wind snapped at their cloaks, blowing so forcefully Runíla felt that hers might just tear off. They passed over mostly even plains as they headed south, a pale, cold sun watching overhead.<p>

It had been more years than Runíla cared to remember since she had ridden a horse but she found herself falling into a comfortable, steady rhythm with Gelion. She left the reins loose, keeping only a light grip on the base of his mane as the horses followed Shadowfax's lead, Gandalf astride him bareback.

They spent one short night on the plain, only daring to make a small fire. Although their words were few and hushed, there was a certain amount of relief that came now that Gandalf had returned. Aragorn was a natural leader, although he had not accepted it, and he was clearly glad to have the wizard by their side. The horses munched grass contentedly as Runíla stirred the searing embers, a soft red glow flickering against their faces. Gandalf and Aragorn whispered to each other off to the side, their faces firm and serious. For once Runíla was glad not to be included. Stretching her legs out by the fire and warming her fingers lulled her into and almost relaxed state.

Legolas sat opposite her, one hand running absentmindedly down his bow. His eyes suddenly snapped up to meet hers and he gave a barely noticeable smile.

"It will be almost a half day's ride to Edoras tomorrow." Runíla found herself saying. "If you need rest, I suggest you take it sooner rather than later. The sun rises early here."

"I do not need it." His fingers continued to trace patterns on his bow. "What is Edoras like?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I have never traveled to a city of men before." This caught Runíla by surprise. "I will not deny that I am more than a bit intrigued."

Before she really know what was happening, Runíla was describing Edoras; the simple, weathered buildings, the main hall and its decorations, the people's plain, almost rustic way of life. Legolas listened quietly, asking few questions so that the only noises other than Runíla were the crackling of the fire and Gimli's snores. He seemed amused that the stables matched the great hall in grandeur, laughing softly and then nodding in understanding after Runíla explained just how important their horses were to the people of Rohan.

Soon, to Runíla's surprising disappointment, she was run dry of stories of Edoras, but after a quietly eager prompting from Legolas, she launched into descriptions of some of the other lands she had crossed during her travels. She thought back to Harad, a land south of Mordor, where the markets were so bursting with fragrant spices that the smell seemed to overflow into the desert. Legolas listened attentively as she described the barely controlled chaos of the port of Umbar, the exact color the Sea of Rhûn during a ferocious storm and the sheer vastness of the glaciers of the Ice-bay of Forochel. Legolas hung onto her every word, and to be honest, Runíla was a bit shocked that he seemed so fascinated with what she had to say. These were all things that, for some reason, Runíla had never put much thought into before, and she wasn't sure why she thought them then. _I must be getting soft, _she scoffed once this reached her mind_. Next I'll be reciting poetry and singing ballads to my 'one true love'_.

After a while, she stopped. There were many more stories she could have told, practically centuries worth, but she found herself wanting to save them, whether for herself or for another time, she did not know. Legolas seemed content with her information, and they settled into a surprisingly easy silence as the darkness deepened. Runíla tried to keep her mind from wandering, rolling a twig between her fingers and scratching lightly at the soft dirt. The long silence was at last broken by Legolas. He seemed hesitant, almost wary, as he opened his mouth, trying to find the right words.

"You never told me why you had never traveled to my kingdom." The words finally forced their way out, and he watched Runíla's reaction carefully.

The moment his words sunk in Legolas knew he should never have opened his mouth. Runíla's mouth pressed into a firm line, and a coldness seemed to reach her eyes. The little twig was clenched between white knuckles as she sat stiffly. Legolas blinked in surprise as she began to scratch viciously at the dirt again with the twig, this time gouging deep holes as if clawing at an enemy.

"Well, _my prince_," She mocked, scraping an especially deep mark, "That is hardly my fault, is it?"

Her words stung him deeper than a knife and sharper than a whip. He watched, somewhat rueful as she flung the twig into the fire, the light throwing one side of her face into shadow. She turned her back to the flame, instead turning her gaze to the wide, inky plains, focusing on breathing and taming the quick burst of anger. Legolas studied her for several minutes, letting her simmer down.

"I am sorry, _mellon nín_. In your own time." He said quietly, before turning around.

Runíla risked a quick glance back, astounded. His back was to her as he also looked out on the land. She turned back and rested her arm on her bent knee, lost in thought. _In your own_ time, he had said. Did that mean he expected her to one day trust him enough to share what would certainly disgust him? To be honest, Runíla was not planning on sticking around when all was said and done. She simply expected herself to slip away, quickly and quietly, the way she always did. She was not even supposed to become friendly with him. But there was a quiet strength about him that she liked, a simplicity in his ways that she had not expected from a prince.

She cleared her throat quickly before speaking, struggling with the words. "Don't be. Sorry, I mean. Don't be sorry. There's no crime in curiosity."

They spoke no more that night, but she knew he had accepted her apology. His face turned a bit and she noticed how his cheek lifted just slightly, as if he were smiling.

* * *

><p>Edoras began as nothing more than a pinprick in the distance, overshadowed by the broad mountains that bordered it from the south. At the rate the horses traveled it was soon distinguishable as a green-brown mound, miniature rooftops and gates growing with every stride. As they grew closer, Runíla even caught a glimpse of a pale white, almost ghostlike, figure at the very top, but it vanished as if the ferocious wind had swept it away.<p>

Rohan's one true city lay upon a single, wide mountain in a sea of plains. While the plains stretched almost endlessly north, a chain of white-capped mountains blocked the way south. Green, red and gold banners carefully embroidered with proud horses hung on practically by a thread, Runíla noticed as they started the up the gentle slope to the gates. She tugged at the bottom of her hood, debating whether to hide her appearance upon entering the city, but with a spur-of-the-moment decision she let it fall and held her head high. Heavy, worn doors were opened from within but it was barely enough for the four horses to slip through.

Runíla was not sure what type of reaction she was expecting from the people of Rohan, but it was certainly not the one they received. People kept their heads down, going about their business as hurriedly as possible before letting the doors of their houses slam shut in a most unwelcoming way. A few haggard, worn faces turned towards them in curiosity, and even less stared openly at the lithe, graceful elves and the kindly wizard, but even they were tugged along by others and shut away as if the newcomers carried a plague with them. Aragorn, Gandalf, Runíla, Legolas and Gimli wound their way upwards between the rough-looking thatched houses on almost empty streets.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli said grimly, his voice a bit muffled through Legolas' cloak.

"It's certainly not how I remembered it." Runíla scanned the few grim faces to pass. "Although I suppose having your king be possessed by a traitorous wizard would put a damper on your mood."

"Indeed it would." Agreed the dwarf.

Meduseld, the grand mead hall and residence of the king, rested at the very highest point of the peak. A staircase of great stone slabs led up to the hall. Intricate woven designs, still a vibrant gold after centuries, were etched and painted into the wood. It was by far the most preeminent building, with the exception of the stables.

The five dismounted at the bottom of the steps and climbed to the top as armed soldiers approached, blocking their way to the doors. One dressed in decorative armor headed them, pale and sour looking.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Gríma Wormtongue." His mouth turned up slightly in disgust as the name left his lips.

Gandalf nodded and with a wave of his hand, gestured for the others to surrender their weapons. Runíla gave a long, obviously displeased sigh and eyed darkly the guard who stood in front of her, ready to take her weapons. She, Legolas and Aragorn handed over their bows and quivers as Gimli gave up his axe and Gandalf his sword. Unsheathing her dual swords forcefully (she enjoyed the look of nervousness on his face), she passed them over, the look on her face clearly showing her irritation. Her two knives went next, and she stood unmoving, glaring at the guard. Aragorn coughed, glaring at Runíla, and she rolled her eyes, sighing. Kneeling, she pulled out one set of throwing knives from one boot and two from the other, then a dagger that was tucked cunningly into the waistline of her pants, another small knife in a leather sheath slipped up her sleeve (the guard's eyes were growing wider and Runíla's smirk bigger at each weapon she uncovered), several darts hidden up her vambraces, and a long, curved knife that she pulled out from down her shirt.

"Well, then," Gimli said. "I suppose it is comforting to know that we are traveling with a walking armory."

Legolas smiled, glancing at her. They were about to move forward when the guard held up his hand.

"Your staff." He said to Gandalf.

"Hmm?" Gandalf glanced at his staff and put on an innocent face. "Oh. You would not part an old man from his walking stick."

The guard hesitated, then indicated for them to follow him in, the hefty doors creaking open. As she passed the guard laden with her weapons, Runíla grabbed his arm.

"Put them somewhere safe, and do not touch them." She hissed. "Especially the throwing knives."

He nodded quickly and she moved forward with Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli and Gandalf. She let out a soft chuckle as Legolas took Gandalf's arm, pretending to help him along

"Was that all of your weapons?" Aragorn whispered.

"No, she said quietly. "I've got two more knives in my boot."

"Just two?" He raised his eyebrows.

She nodded. "I left behind the whip a while ago. It was too hard to carry around."

Aragorn shook his head and they entered the hall of Théoden King.

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><p>AN: Hey guys. I know I more-than-kind-of suck. I thought I would be able to post a chapter before I went on vacation but things just got a little too crazy, and kept getting crazier once I came back. So here's an extra long chapter to hopefully make up for it (even though it probably resulted in you just waiting longer. Oops.).<p>

As always, all of your reviews/comments are welcome!

Thank you SO much for reading, it really means a lot!

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	29. Chapter 29

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 29**

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><p>Théoden's hall was not nearly as vibrant as it was in Runíla's memory. The walls were dark and drained or color, with the exception of the few bold banners that hung proudly, a quiet but powerful stand against Saruman. Not a single fire or torch was lit in the hall; it was shadowy except for the patches of pale sunlight that were thrown against the stone floor from open side doors. Elaborately decorated columns lined the length of the hall, and at the end sat Théoden, King of Rohan, withered and slumped in his throne, a slimy looking man muttering into his ear.<p>

The king appeared to be nothing like his tall, proud ancestors. Instead he looked as if he had climbed right out of his grave. A crooked crown sat atop wisps of thin white hair, framing skin as wrinkled as crumpled parchment and watery blue eyes. Beside him, Gríma Wormtongue gripped the arm of the throne as if he was ready to tip the king out of it and take a seat there himself.

A few people milled about to the sides, casting dark looks at the newcomers. Gandalf and Legolas took the lead, Runíla, Aragorn and Gimli flanking them. Runíla noticed Gandalf seemed to hunch over and hobble as he walked. This and his loose grey cloak gave him the appearance of a frail old man rather than a force to be reckoned with, and inside, she smirked.

A flicker of movement caught Runíla's attention, and peering out of the corner of her eye she noticed a group of several burly, muscled men following them, eyeing them aggressively. Runíla smirked and flexed her fingers in anticipation. It wasn't often she got the chance for hand-to-hand combat and she was worried she was growing rusty.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf said.

Gríma leaned forward and whispered something into the king's ear, his eyes trained on the five approaching.

"Why should I... welcome you, Gandalf... Stormcrow?" Théoden wheezed, looking to Gríma for confirmation.

"A just question, my liege." Gríma rose and slunk down the steps, approaching Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear." His voice echoed throughout the hall. "Lathspell, I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf snapped suddenly as Gríma stood before him. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." He raised his staff threateningly, and Gríma instantly backed away, fearful.

"His staff!" He moaned to the guards, backing away. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

The men leapt forward brandishing meaty fists as Gandalf continued forward. Runíla leered at one who rushed towards her, a snarl showing chipped and yellowed teeth. She always enjoyed the rush of hand-to-hand combat. The knives that she slipped by the guards were still tucked into her boot, but she made no move to draw them. She didn't need them to win in a fair fight. Ducking under the man's arm, she spun, thrusting her elbow into his back. He lurched forward and she planted a powerful kick into his back. He crashed to the ground and before he could attempt to get up, he was pinned by Runíla's foot. She smashed his head against the stone floor, not hard enough to kill him, but hard enough to knock him out for several hours. Low grunts and the heavy thud of fists connecting with flesh echoed throughout the hall. Runíla wasted no time spinning around and catching another with a solid punch, making her fist sting in a way that pumped energy through her faster than a bolt of lightning. He swung at her but she dodged, his knuckles just grazing her side. She threw out her leg, hitting his knee with a stinging kick, and she swore she heard a crack as he fell. Another man was brought down as she kneed him swiftly in the stomach and struck him in the head, her heart pounding with the thrill.

Gandalf advanced towards the king, his staff making soft _clunks_ on the stone.

"Théoden, son of Thengel, too long have you sat in the shadows."

Runíla caught one man about to strike at Aragorn from behind, yanking him back by his collar. She slammed her head painfully against his and swiftly followed it up with a punch to his nose. His warm, sticky blood trickled down her hand as he clutched his nose, moaning and scuttling away. She spat at his hunched, retreating back.

Gimli caught Gríma trying to slink away, yanking him down and planting his foot on his chest.

"I would stay very still if I were you." Gimli growled.

The other attackers lay still courtesy of Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli, who were all unharmed. She stood by them, sure to give on or two of the fallen men a swift kick as she passed.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf commanded, extending one hand out, fingers spread and eyes closed in concentration. "I release you from the spell."

The hall waited with bated breath, silent, until the quiet was broken by the king's gurgling laugh. Gandalf opened his eyes, surprised.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" He chuckled darkly.

Suddenly, Gandalf stood tall and cast off his grey cloak, revealing the pure white robes beneath with spread arms. A brilliant light poured from him, one that seemed to fill every corner of the hall, chasing back the shadows that lurked there. Théoden was thrown back in his chair with a cry as if the light pained him. Gandalf held his staff forward towards the king.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound." Gandalf said grimly, approaching the throne.

His staff seemed to pin Théoden to the throne, his face twisted in pain. Light footsteps neared and a young, pale woman clad in a flowing white gown appeared. Her eyes widened at the scene and she rushed forward protectively, but Aragorn caught her arm, pulling her back.

"Wait." He said quietly. She hardly looked pleased, but obeyed.

"If I go... Théoden dies." The king grunted, but his voice was no longer his own. It was the familiar voice of Saruman that left the king's mouth.

Gandalf jerked his staff and Théoden was once more held to the back of the chair as if trapped by invisible hands.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him." Gandalf said sternly.

"Rohan is mine!" Saruman's voice hissed, the king's eyes wide and mad.

"Be gone!" Gandalf cried, as Théoden lunged forward desperately, and for a moment Runíla thought he was going to get his shriveled, cold hands wrapped around the wizard's throat. But Gandalf thrust his staff forward, slamming the king back into the chair. He seemed unconscious for a moment, then moaned and slumped forward dangerously. Aragorn released the woman, who dashed to the king's side catching him just before he tipped out of his chair. She steadied him and searched his face, her eyes pleading. Théoden took several heavy breaths, and then Runíla witnessed one of the most extraordinary feats of magic she had ever seen. His hair and beard became shorter, thicker and more golden. His shoulders grew broader, filling out his rich fur robes. An air of life and vigor appeared around him, one that he had lacked before. His skin smoothed out and became tanner and his eyes no longer clouded and pale, but full of recognition as if he had just woken up from a terrible nightmare and realized it was simply inside his head. The woman's smile grew larger and she rested a hand on his cheek, her eyes glittering with tears of happiness and relief.

"I know your face." He breathed, awestruck as the woman's first tears fell. "Éowyn... Éowyn." He smiled softly down at her for a moment, his eyes tender. He turned to the strangers who stood in his hall. "Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend." Gandalf smiled proudly.

The crowd that had gathered stared up at their king, wonderstruck. A soft, warm light now filled the hall, and it was no longer difficult to imagine the joyous feasts that were held there.

"Dark have been my dreams of late." Théoden said quietly, his hands trembling just slightly. Runíla could hardly imagine the horrors Saruman had fed into his mind. The nightmare he had woken from would be ones that haunted him even under the sun. He had the disoriented look about him of someone who did not quite know what to do with their body.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better... if they grasped your sword." Gandalf advised.

A guard rushed up bearing a sword and scabbard, holding it out to the king. Théoden slowly reached out, curling his fingers around the leather-bound hilt. He drew it carefully, revealing a broad, gleaming blade. Holding it high, he inspected the blade as if grasping it for the first time. It was simple, with no embellishment other than small engravings etched in the pommel and two curved horse heads forming the guard; a straightforward blade with a purpose.

Théoden studied the blade for a few moments until his eyes flicked over to the corner where Gríma was being held. Gimli had him by the collar kneeling on the ground, quivering, his greasy hair falling over his face. With a small nod, Théoden gestured to the guards who seized Gríma roughly by the arms. His cries rang through the hall as he was dragged mercilessly towards the door, King Théoden following with his sword in hand, the lines in his face firm. He stood taller now that he had a weapon, the sword fitting smoothly into his hand. Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, Runíla and Gimli were close behind.

The doors were thrown out and Gríma cast unsympathetically down the steps as the others spilled out onto the top of the stairs. He rolled, clearly in pain, blood leaking from his lip. His pale, red-rimmed eyes were wide with terror, contrasting starkly with his almost translucent skin and dark robes as he looked up at the king. Théoden approached without an ounce of mercy in his face, his robes flapping in the shrieking wind.

"I have only... ever served you, my Lord." Gríma pleaded frantically, crawling slowly backwards on his hands.

People had begun to gather, men, women and children, open-mouthed at the sight of their king restored to full strength and his slimy advisor now groveling at his feet.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast." Théoden spat, his ruthless eyes trained on Gríma.

Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, Runíla and Legolas followed behind at a safe distance. Runíla watched coldly, secretly pleased to see him punished as he should.

"Send me not from your side!" Gríma cringed, but the king had no pity for him.

Gríma screamed as Théoden raised his sword above his head to deliver a fatal blow when Aragorn leapt forward, grabbing the king's arms and stopping him mid-swing.

"No, my Lord! No, my Lord. Let him go." He protested. Runíla gaped at him, frustrated. "Enough blood has been spilt on his account."

Runíla was shocked again when Théoden obeyed, reluctantly lowering his sword and turning away. He appeared wearier now, taking smaller, heavier steps. She was fully prepared to open her mouth and protest but never got the opportunity. Aragorn stretched out a friendly hand to Gríma, who took one loathsome look at it and spat as if his hand was month-old garbage. Runíla, furious, reached down to her boot for a knife, but Legolas laid a hand on her shoulder. Her head snapped up to look at him, half annoyed, half surprised.

"We do not want his blood on our hands."

She rose begrudgingly. There was that word again. _We_. Runíla still felt unsure about working as a team. After all, team just means you have another person you must watch out for, and the price of that can be a life.

Gríma scrambled to his feet and staggered through the crowd. "Get out of my way!"

No one made a move to stop him, for they would all rather be rid of him than keep him where he could make trouble.

"Hail, Théoden king!" Called the guard, and the crowd knelt, confused yet relieved that their king was back as his normal self.

Not a single person spoke. The sound of hooves marked Gríma's exit as he galloped out of the gates, the wind whistling behind him. Théoden hardly acknowledged the people of Edoras who knelt before him; instead, he turned and gazed up at the hall against the marble grey sky.

"Where is Théodred?" He said quietly. "Where is my son?"

The young woman dressed in white looked down almost guiltily before she rushed up and took his arm, pulling him up towards the hall. She murmured soft words that no one else heard, here gaze trained on the ground in front of her to hide the tears that rose in her eyes. No one followed, for it seemed like something they should not intrude upon. The people rose one-by-one as they lost sight of the king, but everyone heard the ringing clang of steel against stone, and then silence.

Before long, the guards also made their way up to their posts by the door. Gandalf led the way after them, followed by Legolas and Gimli. Runíla caught up to Aragorn and abruptly grabbed his arm.

"You should not have stopped him!" Runíla snapped. "That bastard should have gotten what he deserves, which is his head upon a spike. Let death come as it is justified."

"There is enough death in this world already." Aragorn said, shaking his head. "And we all know there is more to come; hundreds, probably thousands. The last thing this world needs is another dead body."

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><p>AN: Here's another one! By the way, don't expect another chapter until the weekend after this one. I'm going away and have a lot of work to finish up when I get back.<p>

Thank you to all who reviewed, including **Theta-McBride** - I'm so happy you liked that scene! I got ridiculously tired of naming weapons by the time I was done, I nearly ran out of places for her to hide them! :) to **Pinklilly** - High praise! I'm so glad you like it :) and to **Lilly042004.**

Hope you liked it! I'm ridiculously excited to be writing Rohan. As a horse owner/equestrian myself, I've always loved the culture. If you have any tips/comments/criticisms/praise, the review box is below.

Thanks a bunch for reading!

PLEASE give me any or all of your thoughts in a review! They're really lovely for an author to get, and really help motivate me... *hint*. :P


	30. Chapter 30

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 30**

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><p>Not long after Théoden had vanished into the hall, a guard had made an announcement requesting everyone's presence in a few hours for the burial of the prince. The weight of his death hung over the people, who seemed only the slightest bit relieved at their king's return. They huddled in their houses, locking the doors behind them as they were preparing for mourning. Runíla, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli milled aimlessly about the hall for a while, no one in sight. None of them wished to interrupt anyone in their mourning.<p>

The woman dressed in white appeared again, her eyes redder and her face looking more worn than before. She quietly introduced herself as Éowyn and offered to show them to a place where they could rest. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas were given one room while Gandalf and Runíla were shown into two smaller, more private rooms, although Runíla doubted she would get much use out of it.

Her room was windowless, with only a small bed, bureau and mirror within it. Cold, dull grey stone illuminated by only a single lantern surrounded her on all four sides. Runíla drifted across the room, bored. She reached for the knob of the bureau and pulled it open, only to scoff and slam the door once she saw it was full of silken gowns.

She wandered curiously throughout the eerily quiet hall, sometimes cautiously poking her head into side rooms. Eventually she stumbled upon a small chamber stocked with spears such as the one's the guards wielded. Scanning the room, she noticed their weapons piled on a table by the door. She slipped in, placing all of her weapons back where they belonged. She also retrieved Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and Gimli's weapons, checking that all of them were still in flawless condition.

Runíla left the room quickly and quietly, knocking on Gandalf's door before entering. The room was empty with the only trace of Gandalf being his grey cloak cast over a chair. She carefully placed his sword upon his bed before closing the door behind her.

Next, she stopped at Gimli, Legolas and Aragorn's room. Legolas opened the door and let her in.

"Here," She handed his his bow, quiver and knives. "I found these in a room off of the hall. We may be safe here but I assumed you might feel better with them."

"Thank you." He smiled softly, and Runíla felt a bit queer.

Aragorn was pacing on the far side of the room, Gimli slumped in the chair next to him. They took their weapons gratefully.

"Where is Gandalf?" Aragorn asked, slipping his quiver onto his back.

"I don't know. He must have gone for a walk somewhere." Runíla answered. "His room was empty."

"You don't happen to know where I could get some food 'round here, do you?" Gimli asked. "I don't think I can hold down any more of that damned elvish bread."

"No, but if you look around you should be able to find something." Runíla replied.

He hopped out of the chair. "Right then, I'm off."

"I would like to find Gandalf." Legolas said. "As Runíla said earlier, we may be safe, but I would rest easier if we were all together."

His eyes lingered on Runíla for a fleeting second as Aragorn nodded. The elf and dwarf left the room, Runíla shaking her head in disbelief.

"I still don't understand how those two became even tolerant of each other. It would be so much easier for them to simply despise each other." She sat down in the chair.

"They aren't the most unlikely friends that have bonded recently." Aragorn said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I can't say I ever expected you and Legolas to be on speaking terms, let alone friends."

Runíla exhaled sharply. "Believe me, it was sort of an accident."

"Do you regret it?"

Runíla thought for a moment. Despite the circumstances of position, they got along quite well, more than Runíla liked to admit. In fact, she enjoyed being around him more than she was comfortable admitting, even to herself. This was slightly daunting for her, seeing as before the quest she could count her friends on just one hand. She almost didn't know what to do. Their friendship was moving faster than she was used to, and faster than she was comfortable. What if he expected to see her after they finished what they had set out to do (assuming they actually accomplished it and didn't die in the process)?

"I don't know. I'm not even sure what to do." She sighed. "He'd be furious with me if he found out, wouldn't he?" It was a symbol of the strength of their bond, even if they never acknowledged it, that Aragorn knew precisely what she was speaking about. "He'd be disgusted. Who wouldn't?" Runíla slumped in the chair, Aragorn watching her curiously. "This is why I try to avoid people. Being social is far to complicated. Battle is always back and white, you hardly have to think straight. But dealing with other people there are more shades of grey than I thought possible."

"Practice makes perfect." Aragorn smiled, somewhat teasingly.

"I don't think I want to practice. I don't need friends."

Aragorn stared at her pointedly.

"No offense." She said quickly.

Aragorn suddenly became serious again. "Then what do you expect to do if we succeed, and evil is destroyed for ever? The only sour person left will be you."

Runíla scowled. "I prefer not to think that far ahead."

* * *

><p>Not long after, people begun to gather along the grassy slopes of the city. From a distance, their black garb stood out like a plague poisoning the lush green grass. Runíla, Gandalf, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli joined the procession behind the king. Théoden, dressed in fine furs, followed the six guards who bore the pale, blue-lipped body of the fallen prince. The king walked tall against the bitter wind, his expression comfortless. The people filed into the procession as they passed, some crying quietly. Runíla walked with her hands clasped humbly in an attempt to feel somber for the fallen warrior.<p>

The young woman, Éowyn, waited by an open tomb dug into a hill and adorned with white flowers, her thick golden curls wrapped in a bun with a decorative circlet, trembling hands gripping onto her black shroud. As her cousin was lowered into his tomb, wearing full armor and with small white flowers clasped in his hand, she began to sing. Her slightly choked words, sung in another tongue, were eerily haunting.

"__Bealocwealm hafað fréone frecan forth onsended  
>giedd sculon singan gléomenn sorgiende<br>on Meduselde þæt he ma no wære  
>his dryhtne dyrest and mæga deorost.<br>Bealo..."__

The tomb's stone door crashed closed, the noise startling some people. Runíla stared at the door for a moment, thinking of the prince who now lay inside the cold stone walls. She wondered how his body would look in a century. She imagined his armor that shone dully beneath the cloud-cloaked sun just seconds before tarnished and fragile, brittle bones wrapped around the hilt of his sword, the white flowers long disintegrated. She suddenly had a startling image of herself, wandering through low mist in a forest. She watched in her mind's eye as her face became sunken, the skin decaying and falling off, her blades becoming rusted and useless in her hand. She was a corpse walking in a world where she was once needed.

* * *

><p>The people dispersed quickly, leaving only the king and his niece before the tomb. Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas and Runíla retreated, but Gandalf waited a ways up, keeping an eye on the king. The others continued up, solemn. Runíla stood before the doors of the hall, looking out over the small houses that extended downwards and the little black figures that made their way between them. The sun, now uncovered by clouds, shone at their back, casting the mountain's shadowy silhouette onto the golden plains. Aragorn and Gimli disappeared into the hall, but Legolas stayed by her side.<p>

Éowyn eventually left her uncle to his mourning and walked up to the hall, only managing a small, tired smile in their direction. Gandalf now stood closer to Théoden, speaking to him.

"I wonder how it feels to carry the weight he bears." Legolas wondered softly as they watched the king fall, grief-stricken to his knees.

It occurred to Runíla then that she had felt loss, more than most, but the type of grief that comes from a parent losing a child is an acute pain. She wondered, like Legolas, how it felt to be parted from someone you had seen from the very day they took their first breath grow and learn, someone who is a product of your love and devotion, and then watch their body, once so tiny, be buried decades too soon. She decided then that maybe it was a good thing that her mother was killed first. It saved her from seeing the light leave her little boy's eyes.

"And I thought losing a parent was difficult." She said quietly, forgetting Legolas' presence for a moment.

She did not have much time to think any more dark thoughts, for just then, something caught her eye. She ignored Legolas' gaze, focusing on a misshapen figure on the distant plain. Narrowing her eyes, she made out the body of a horse bearing what appeared to be two small children slumped on its back, one swaying dangerously.

Legolas started to speak. "Runíla, di-"

He was cut off as she leapt down the stairs, bolting for the stables. She sprinted, throwing open the doors and spotting Gelion. Within a few seconds his stall was unlatched and she swung herself onto his back without a saddle or bridle. Clapping her legs to his sides he shot forward, hooves echoing on the cobblestone. People threw themselves to the side to avoid being trampled as Runíla, bent over Gelion's powerful neck, urged him forward.

"Open the gate!" She yelled. "Open the gate!"

Someone had the courage to race forward and throw open the gate just in time for Runíla and Gelion to shoot through. They hurled down the slope towards the two children. Runíla only egged him on more once she noticed one of the children, a young boy, tumble from the back on the horse. Runíla silently praised Gelion's speed as they approached them, slowing from the gallop. Runíla leapt from Gelion's back and immediately went to the boy, who lay unconscious face-down in the grass. She turned him over and checked that he was still breathing, then turned to the girl. She looked only about seven or eight years old, filthy and about to collapse from weariness.

"Who are you?" Her voice was shaking and frightened. "Leave my brother alone!"

"Er... it's alright, my name is Runíla." The elleth reassured her. She desperately hoped she was saying the right thing, as it had been several centuries since she had last had to interact with children, and she was never all that good with them anyways. "I'm going to take you back to Edoras."

The little girl, nodded, looking a bit relieved, then awestruck.

"Are you and elf?"

"Er... yes."

The girl said nothing and simply watched Runíla, wonderstruck, as she picked up the boy. Runíla steadied him on Gelion's back, then swung up behind him.

"Hand me your reins." Runíla told her, steering Gelion within an arm's reach of the girl's massive farm horse.

The girl handed them over and held on to the front of the saddle as Runíla led them towards the gates at a brisk walk. She had to admit, the girl's constant stare was a bit unnerving. When they reached the gates, a sizable crowd had already gathered. They refused to leave, instead following Runíla, the little girl and her brother all the way up to the steps of the hall.

Legolas hurried down the steps and helped the little girl (who was now nearly about to faint, not from exhaustion, but from delight) off her horse. Runíla slid off Gelion and pulled the boy off, slinging him over her shoulder.

"Isn't that a little rough on him?" Legolas gestured to the way the unconscious boy hung upside-down over her back.

"What?" Runíla answered, but Legolas just shook his head.

Éowyn rushed forward, now composed, an older woman at her side. She took the boy and the woman ushered the girl inside. Runíla turned to Legolas, finding themselves in the same spot they were before she bolted off.

"You were saying something?" She asked. He smiled and they went inside.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Éowyn's Song<strong> **Translation**_

_An evil death has set forth the noble warrior_  
><em>A song shall sing sorrowing minstrels <em>  
><em>in Meduseld that he is no more, <em>  
><em>to his lord dearest and kinsmen most belover.<em>  
><em>An evil death...<em>

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry this took so long but I WENT TO HARRY POTTER WORLD AND IT WAS ALL SORTS OF AMAZING!<p>

Then A VERY POTTER SENOIR YEAR CAME OUT LAST NIGHT AND I DIED AND THEN WAS REBORN and now I'm sick so its been busy.

My next chapter (if all goes well) should be up sometime middle-to-late next week. I've got standardized testing (_whoopie_) but luckily that means less homework.

THANK YOU to everyone who has reviewed/followed/favorited! You guys are the best!

Also, find my on Tumblr! My URL is **not-my-fandom-you-bitch.**

Please feel free to leave any comment, be it weird, funny, critical, sweet, completely irrelevant or inappropriate, in the review box below. I really appreciate it!

Hope you enjoyed it even though it kind of sucked and I really just wanted to give you guys something because it's been awhile.


	31. Chapter 31

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 31**

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><p>The boy was taken away to be cared for, his little sister constantly by his side. It did not take long for the healers to revive him, and before long he and his sister were being questioned by the king.<p>

Aragorn and Gimli sat at a table in the hall, Runíla leaning against a pillar and Legolas by her side. Théoden sat in his throne, watching as the children desperately slurped down soup. Éowyn, still dressed in her funeral gown, hovered at their side, defending them.

"They had no warning. They were unarmed." She said. "Now the wildmen are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go. Rick, cot and tree."

"Where's Mama?" Piped up the little girl, whose name they learned to be Freda.

Éowyn shushed her, tucking a blanket more snugly around her shoulders. She had managed to get the boy to recount what had happened to their village, and what he said displeased everyone. Saruman had not only orcs, Uruk-hai and wargs on his side; now there were men among his ranks as well. This did not bode well, especially in a time when men ought to have been uniting together against Sauron and his underlings.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash." Gandalf reasoned. "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and meet him head on. Draw him away from your women and children." He leant forward, placing a hand on the arm of Théoden's chair, but withdrew it at Théoden's cool glare. "You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak." Aragorn said. "Éomer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now." Théoden said, frustrated. "Éomer cannot help us. I know what it is you want of me. But I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

Runíla opened her mouth to protest, but Aragorn got there first.

"Open war is upon you. Whether you would risk it or not." He said harshly.

"When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan." There was the faintest evidence of a sneer in Théoden's voice.

"No, Aragorn is right." Théoden whipped his head over to stare at Runíla. "Sauron is using Saruman to obliterate your people. If Saruman does not reach you, which is highly unlikely, then Sauron himself will set the forces of Mordor against you." Théoden looked as if he was about to speak, but Runíla didn't let him get a word in, speaking passionately. "I'd say that is endangering your people more than putting up a stand. You have a fighting chance, a small one, albeit a chance. It is in your hands whether you sit here like pigs in a pen before slaughter or if you act upon that chance."

Théoden was silent, but Runíla could sense him attempting to calm his simmering anger.

"Who are you?" He fumed after he finally found words. "What kind of woman dares to speak in such ways?"

Runíla drew herself up, placing a casual hand on her dagger hilt.

"My name is Runíla, though I have many names in many places. Here, I believe it is Rhovannor."

She was surprised by Théoden's ability to mask his reaction; he seemed almost nonchalant about it, until he spoke.

"This is what the legends are about? An elf woman?" He said, cynical. "The protector of Middle Earth is someone who ought to be home taking care of children." Out of the corner of her eye, Runíla noticed Éowyn stand taller at this. "I cannot say that I am disappointed in the legend's true form."

Teeth clenched, Runíla was smart enough to keep her hands off her dagger, instead drawing out some sharp words and aiming for a soft spot.

"Not as disappointed as your people will be if you do not at least try to fight to protect them. Oh wait," She sneered. "They will not be disappointed, they will be _dead_."

Théoden's mouth was pressed into a firm line as Runíla stared him down, the others watching them carefully.

"Either way," Gandalf spoke up, "what is the king's decision?"

Théoden rubbed his chin, deep in thought, before speaking.

"The fortress of Helm's Deep has shielded my people countless times before. It shall do so once more."

* * *

><p>The city of Edoras was now bustling with life that bordered on chaos. Guards shouted orders as people rushed about, packing necessities and finding ways to bear the weak. Gandalf led the way to the stables, Runíla, Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli following.<p>

"Helm's Deep!" Gandalf scoffed.

"The flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight!" Gimli exclaimed. "Who will defend them if not their king?"

"He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past." Aragorn reasoned.

"This is not the past." Runíla argued. "He ought to know that. Saruman combined with Sauron creates a force more powerful than in any of Théoden's darkest nightmares."

They entered the stables, Gandalf striding powerfully to Shadowfax's stall.

"There is no way out of that ravine. Théoden is walking into a trap." Gandalf informed them quickly. "He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn." Gandalf looked him directly in the eye. "The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses _have _to hold."

"They will hold." Aragorn promised.

"As long as we stand." Runíla added.

Gandalf smiled softly, stroking Shadowfax.

"The Grey Pilgrim... that's what they used to call me." He said quietly. "Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time." He turned to them again, now determined. "With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

Aragorn held the gate open, looking up at Gandalf.

"Go." He said, and Shadowfax sprung forward and galloped out of the stables and into the sunlight.

* * *

><p>Runíla searched the stables, peering over stall doors to find Gelion, a green apple she had stumbled across clutched in her hand. Finally, she spotted his proud head in a stall in the farthest corner of the stable. But that was not what caught her attention. A figure wrapped in coarse black cloth stood before him, watching. Runíla approached warily.<p>

"May I help you?" She asked as she reached the figure.

Looking over, she noticed that it was a woman. Her dark blond hair was flecked with grey and wrinkles framed her eyes and mouth, showing that she was growing old. Callused, work-worn hands gripped tightly at her shawl.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?" She said quietly, her eyes glued on Gelion.

"Er... yes, he is." Runíla answered, puzzled.

"That's just what my son thought."

Runíla blinked, astonished. She supposed that it made sense, after all, Éomer had given them the three horses that lost their masters fighting the Uruk-hai.

"Er... well... you are more than welcome to have him back." She said quickly. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Oh, no..." The woman waved a hand, tears sparkling in her eyes. "You have far more use for him than I do. He's better off with you. Just... treat him well. I always thought my boy loved that horse more than he did his own family." She chuckled dryly, then sighed. "But I am an old woman now, perhaps not in age, but in heart. Now the only day I wait for is the one in which I join the ones I love."

Turning to Runíla, she smiled, and Runíla was too shocked to smile in return.

"Good luck." The woman slowly left the stables, only to stop and look back at the door.

"He's never liked green apples."

Runíla looked down at the apple in her hand, then at the doorway, but the woman was gone. She sighed and tossed the apple in the stall beside Gelion's. Laying a hand on his stall door, Runíla finally got her first good, solid look at him.

He was, without a doubt, a horse built for war.

Gelion was absolutely massive, most likely one of the largest horses Runíla had ever seen. His hooves were larger than the span of Runíla's stretched hand. Muscles rippled seamlessly beneath a smooth black coat only interrupted by three white socks and a thick white blaze down his face. His mane and tail, also black, were left long.

Runíla let herself into his stall, giving him a quick brushing before putting on the saddle and bridle, then attaching her small bag of belongings to the saddle. He stayed remarkably still throughout.

"Your master trained you well." She murmured, giving his muzzle a quick pat.

The creak of the stable door alerted her to the presence of someone else. Runíla poked her head out of the stall to see Legolas enter, no doubt heading to Arod's stall.

"How much more time until we leave?" She asked, tightening Gelion's girth.

"Not long now." Legolas answered. "Théoden is preparing to leave now."

Runíla could help a slight scoff leave her mouth at his name.

"Do you really think that Rohan could have had a fighting chance?" He asked.

"Of course. There's always a chance, no matter what. Some people are simply to nearsighted to see the small bit of hope left. Victory is never certain, and neither is defeat. Anyways, they still have a fighting chance. I do not believe that Saruman will allow us to flee to Helm's Deep so easily."

"That's comforting." Legolas chuckled.

"That's the truth." Runíla smiled, leading Gelion out of the stall. "Are you ready?"

"Almost." Legolas reached for the bridle on the wall. "How good are you with horses?"

"I'm fine. I am not around them often, but when I am I enjoy it." She placed a hand on Gelion's neck. "I've always wanted one of my own, but I travel so much I fear I would run the poor beast off it's feet within a week. What about you?"

"I had one in Mirkwood. I rode him to Rivendell but he went back to my father and older brother when we departed."

Runíla hardly processed a word he said except for two. "Older brother?" She was shocked, and a bit (although she didn't quite realize the feeling) hopeful.

"Yes." Legolas said. "Thindor. He is older than me by a great deal, and spend much of his time with my father being groomed for the throne."

Runíla was quiet. She was slightly more at ease now that she knew Legolas was not next in line for the throne. He was (or he could be, if he wanted) free to do what he wished and not face the consequences of his actions affecting his power.

"Come." She said. "Aragorn and Gimli must be waiting."

* * *

><p>AN: Hey y'all! I don't know why I did that I'm not even from the country.<p>

So there wasn't a whole lot going on in this one, but I tried to add more relationship/people-y stuff. I'm SUPER ridiculously excited for the Battle of Helm's Deep, and it's almost here!

Anyways, I hope I'll be able to update soon... it's standardized testing week. :(

**PLEASE REVIEW! It would really make my life!**

Thanks for reading, y'all keep on truckin'!


	32. Chapter 32

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 32**

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><p>It was slow going as the people of Edoras filed out of their city the nest morning. Most people were on foot, with only a few other than guards and the king on horseback. A seemingly endless queue snaked over the plains and gentle slopes. People often glanced back to look at the city with doubt weighing on their minds, a few young, confused children in tears. Massive sacks of food, clothing and fuel weighed people down; others were burdened with the sick, crippled, or very young. They were vulnerable, far too vulnerable for Runíla's liking, but she was slightly more at ease crossing the plains, for it would be almost impossible for any enemy force to ambush them without them knowing. <em>A fat load of good that'll do,<em> she thought. _It doesn't stop the fact that were far too weak._

As they left, she scanned the faces nearby for the two children, Freda and Éothain. She relaxed, seeing them in the care of one of the old women who first helped them, and made sure to keep an eye on them. They would be alright. There was a good chance that there mother was already at Helm's Deep with other villagers, all seeking protection from the Wildmen.

Runíla rode up at the front of the company, Aragorn and Gimli all by her side or nearby. Legolas walked next to her, stretching his legs. Théoden rode not far up ahead, Éowyn staying close. After a while, once the silence had grown deafening, Gimli took it upon himself to entertain the rest. He described some of the great dwarven cities such as Erebor and Moria in it's greater days. As he spoke, people began to draw closer to him and his words. The king drifted back to eventually ride beside Aragorn, and Éowyn walked by Gimli's side. He was glad to have such an eager audience and began to revel in the attention.

"How is Erebor now, Gimli?" Runíla called.

She wondered if the prosperous city still gleamed the way it did the last time she saw it, after the Battle of the Five Armies.

"It does not thrive as it once did." He said gravely. "Trade does not flourish as before between the Men of Dale and the elves and we are hurt from it."

"We would if our forest was not overrun with those foul spiders." Legolas defended.

Gimli was surprisingly not offended. "We are both are fighting to keep invaders off of our land and away from the women and children, for many a vile creature has tried to set foot on our soil."

"What are the women of your kind like?" Éowyn asked curiously, lightening the mood. "I've heard no tales of them, and we have few books other than one's on our own history."

"It's true, you don't see many dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance... that they're often mistaken for Dwarf men." Gimli said.

Éowyn smiled and she, for some reason that Runíla could not fathom, looked back at Aragorn.

"It's the beards." He whispered, stroking his chin and sending a bright grin onto her face.

"This, in turn, has given rise to the belief that there are no Dwarf women, and that Dwarves just spring out of holes in the ground!" Éowyn and Gimli both laughed at this, and those listening in smiled. "Which is, of course, ridiculous..." He trailed off, throwing his hands in the air.

With a cry, Gimli lost control of his horse as it sprung forward. The dwarf tumbled heavily to the ground, his horse halting not much farther away. Éowyn gasped and rushed forward to help him up.

"It's alright, its alright. Nobody panic." He grunted, struggling to stand. "That was deliberate, it was deliberate."

Éowyn held in a laugh, her hand resting supportively on Gimli's shoulder. She beamed at her uncle and Aragorn, but her smile quickly faded.

"How far is Helm's Deep?" Legolas asked, looking up at Runíla.

""We'll be there before nightfall tomorrow." She replied.

"Have you seen it before?"

She nodded. "I've fought there a few times as well. Its quite handy when the time is right."

"Is the time right?" His question hung in the air.

Runíla's mouth hardened. "No. Saruman will come for us with a force ten times ours, if not more. The fortress is strong, yes, but when you are strongly outnumbered _and_ cornered your chances are never good."

* * *

><p>Runíla sat on a small boulder with one knee pulled up to her chest. Legolas stood next to her as people gathered the bit of food they could spare for a paltry meal. They avoided any food, not wanting to take what the people needed more than them. Families and friends huddled together protectively, sharing scraps of food. Only a few people took the time and precious food to cook.<p>

Gimli hurried over to the two elves, looking a bit unwell, though Runíla's eyes were fixed on the two small children, Freda and Eothain, who shared a scrap of bread between the two of them.

"Don't take anything she gives you." Gimli said hurriedly.

"Hm?" Runíla said, distracted. "What? Who? Why?"

"Éowyn." He said, glancing over his shoulder. "She was offering a few folks some stew she made... although I'm not so sure it was stew. Smelled worse than a sweaty orc."

"Are you sure that's possible?" Runíla scoffed.

Gimli glanced fearfully over his shoulder once more, noticing the woman heading their direction with a steaming pot in hand.

"Refuse it!" He hissed once more, then walked briskly away.

But she didn't let him go so easily. Legolas and Runíla watched, amused as she approached him, her long stride quickly overtaking his small one.

"Gimli?" She held the pot, bowl and spoon towards him eagerly.

Runíla saw him gag slightly.

"No, I could't. I really couldn't." He said quickly, rushing away.

"Honestly, it can't be that bad..." Runíla said slowly. "Can it?"

Éowyn caught sight of them and headed swiftly for her next victims.

"I guess we'll have to see." Legolas said quietly.

"I put together a bit of stew." Éowyn smiled. "May I tempt you?"

Runíla immediately caught the first whiff as she was seated almost directly next to the pot. A gust of wind blasted the odor directly in her face and she tried to press her lips together to step herself from spluttering. She noticed the way Legolas stiffened a moment later.

"No thank you." He managed. "Neither of us are hungry."

Éowyn nodded, crestfallen. Runíla took this opportunity to shift slightly away from the pot of what smelled like rotting food mixed with horse manure.

"Why don't you ask Aragorn?" Runíla cast a sly glance at Legolas. "He mentioned earlier that he was famished and I haven't seen him take a bite since."

Éowyn smiled brightly and immediately made a beeline for Aragorn, who was sitting nearby. Runíla sighed.

"Poor, poor man."

Legolas shook his head, smiling.

"That was cruel."

"Eh, he'll live." She shrugged. "What on earth do you think she put in that ghastly mix?!"

"I'm not so sure I have a desire to know." Legolas chuckled.

"I cannot even begin to imagine what those white clumps were. It looked like orc snot to me." She snorted.

Legolas laughed loudly, drawing the attention of a few people nearby. "It certainly smelled foul enough."

Several heads turned, wondering just what the two elves could be laughing for. Runíla suddenly thought of how non-elegant and collected they must appear to everyone, but she found that the way her stomach clenched tightly with laughter felt so good she didn't care. She knew there were few princes in the world, especially elves, who would willingly laugh and joke about orc snot and although she did not really know it, she was glad he was there.

"Quick, someone keep her food away from the children!" Gasped Runíla.

Legolas, chuckling, pointed to Aragorn, who was trying to pour out the stew he had been too polite to refuse behind Éowyn's back. She turned suddenly and he gritted his teeth from the scalding broth slopping down his front.

Their laughs faded into snickers as Aragorn struggled to stomach the stew under Éowyn's proud and watchful eye.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the long delay! I originally planned to make this longer but I felt bad because I haven't updated for a while so...<p>

This weekend is a long weekend and two weeks from now is my break, so I plan to get a lot of writing done then. Hang in there!

Thanks to **alldifferentallsame, WriteWithFeeling, Theta-McBride, **and **ccgnme** for reviewing! You guys absolutely made my day! :)

Thanks for reading, and stay awesome.

**PLEASE REVIEW**


	33. Chapter 33

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 33**

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><p>The morning dawned pale and cool, although by that hour they were already up and on their feet again. Wind nipped at the hands, necks and cheeks of those who could not find a blanket to spare. Most were bleary-eyed, having slept little if at all. The continuous line of people settled on a sluggish, mechanical pace. They were enervated in both mind and body, and the weight of loved ones and provisions drained the energy from their limbs. But something in the rugged, resilient people caused them to push on and keep looking up despite the burdens that weighed them down. Perhaps it was the bit of their prestigious ancestors that had survived and burned in their bones and blood. Pertinaciously putting one foot in front of the other, they were tenacious in reaching what would hopefully be their saving grace.<p>

After riding for several hours Gelion's smooth, rhythmic gait drove Runíla into a state of restlessness. After a while she decided that she ought to stretch her legs, and dismounted.

"I'll hold him for you, if you'd like." Éowyn offered.

Runíla nodded her thanks and handed the reins over.

Two of the king's guards, Gamling and Háma, passed by at a brisk trot, probably to scout ahead. She watched as they disappeared over the hill in front of them. Thinking nothing of it, she stretched and began to lightly jog up to where Legolas stood at the front of the procession, figuring she might as well have some company. But just as she started, Legolas set up the hill at a rapid pace and soon disappeared over the crest. Frowning, Runíla increased her pace to discover what lay beyond the hill. She mounted it and what she saw immediately made her reach for her swords.

An enormous wolf-like creature with shaggy brown fur lay still upon the ground, courtesy of Legolas. Its jaws were open wide and snarling even in death. She knew without a doubt that these were products of Saruman's malevolence, toys in his game to raze Rohan and the rest of Middle Earth. Beside the beast lay Háma, blood staining his green cloak an almost back color. Legolas turned to Runíla, arrow in hand.

"A scout!" He spat.

Her keen sense of hearing began to pick up far-off growls and thundering footsteps approaching. She turned and sprinted down the hill, already reaching behind her to draw her swords.

"Soldiers to the front!" She yelled. "We're being attacked!"

Chaos and fear seized the people. Throughout the commotion women shrieked, panicking, and a few young children burst into tears. Sol

"Get them out of here!" Aragorn shouted.

"All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden ordered.

Their voices were barely heard over the din. Runíla rushed down the column, her voice straining to deliver orders to people. She soon turned back, running towards Gelion. She leapt, placing her hands on his rump from behind and landing firmly in the saddle. Éowyn let go in shock and Runíla pulled Gelion out of the line, cantering to the front. A number of soldiers on horseback hurtled to the front, passing adults shielding children and villagers desperately trying to back away.

"Follow me!" Théoden cried. "Yah!"

Gimli was struggling with Arod, attempting to get him to move forward.

"Honestly, Gimli, let go of the damn reins!" She yelled as she passed him.

A surge of soldiers started up the hill while the people backed away. Runíla was near the front of that group, her eyes trained on the crest of the hill, a part of her aching to catch a glimpse of the approaching enemy. She moved fluidly with Gelion's powerful strides.

"Now, mellon nín," She said lowly, her face bent close to his neck. "let us test your skill on the battlefield."

She sheathed her swords for a moment as they mounted the hill, drawing her bow. A pack of around thirty wargs all commanded by orcs loped closer, their faces scrunched into eager snarls. Runíla managed to get in a few shots before releasing her swords once more, twirling them in anticipation. Legolas swung up onto Arod as they charged forward, the drumming hooves and thumping paws growing ever closer. They stretched their blades towards the enemy with a cry. Runíla had forgotten that there was nothing quite like charging into battle on horseback. The pounding hoofbeats resonate in your ears and your entire body feels to tremble with the beat. It drowns out all other sound and for a moment it seems that its silent. Until you meet your enemy.

They clashed, claws swiping at horses and swords swiping at orcs. The air was alive with clashing, growling, yelling, neighing and hoofbeats. Gelion collided with a warg but Runíla kept her seat. She skillfully used the blade of one sword to daze the orc rider and the other to slice its throat. She searched immediately for her next kill, and crossed blades with an orc. He snarled in her face and she sliced the side of the warg, severing the girth and sending the orc sprawling. She finished him off with a well-aimed knife. A snarl far too close for Runíla's liking caused her to turn. She was met with a riderless warg lunging straight for her. Moist breath that reeked of rotten meat ghosted across her face as she speedily maneuvered Gelion sideways. It landed as she spun to face it but it could not leap in time to avoid the honed blade that gored its dull eye. She wiped it out completely by slashing its throat open. Surveying the battlefield, she took note of each of her companions except Aragorn. Gelion pranced as she searched for a glimpse of him. A blur of tan fur and the swirl of a dark cloak caught her eye and she spun. But there was not enough time for her to even start Gelion forward when the familiar black form was dragged onto rock and then twist off a cliff.

Her scream nearly halted battle for a moment. Her blood-spattered figure tensed and one of her swords was suspended in the air, her eyes fixed to the spot where her friend had just vanished. The world around her swirled, the came back into focus more precise and distinct than before. Runíla's eyes flicked to the nearest warg. Launching herself from the saddle, she tackled the orc and knocked it from the saddle, almost unaware of his armor digging into her skin. The beast squirmed below her in an attempt to shake her off, but she raised her sword and drove it into its skull. Runíla rolled off the warg and barely glanced at a passing orc as her knife skewered her throat.

She looked around, swords at the ready, but found the battlefield was now empty of enemies and now littered with their corpses. Few survivors, far too few, also scanned the carnage. Soft wind was the only sound that swept through the battlefield. Runíla immediately rushed to the rocky cliff edge, ignoring Legolas and Gimli's shouts for Aragorn. The drop was dizzyingly far. Frothy, brownish colored water ran rapidly, but there was no sign of Aragorn. Light footsteps announced Legolas's arrival. He too looked downwards and then at Runíla.

"Runíla..." He trailed off. To most people his voice may have seemed calm and collected, but Runíla was surprised when she detected she underlying trace of fear.

It was only as she went to open her mouth that she realized that her teeth had been tightly clamped on the flesh of her inside cheek.

"Gone." She said simply.

The tips of her swords brushed the ground and her arms were limp. She always knew he was going to die one day from the very moment she met him as a bumbling toddler in Rivendell. But she never would have thought it would be in front of her very eyes. Aragorn was one of the people she could never imagine dying, even if she knew it would happen. She remembered him being dragged over the edge with the warg and in her head, watched his body splash into the brown water. She wondered if the warg got to him before the fast-moving water did, and how far downstream his limp body was by now.

Gimli neared them, dumbfounded.

"Where'd he go off to?"

But Runíla and Legolas were too staggered to answer him. An orc that lay dying nearby choked out a gurgling laugh that soon turned into a cough. Gimli placed his axe threateningly against his throat.

"Tell me what happened and I will ease your passing." He snarled.

"He's dead." The orc coughed and cackled. "Took a little tumble off the cliff."

Runíla whirled around, her cheeks red with fury.

"_You_," She yanked a knife from her belt and brandished it menacingly. "_filthy_ _bastard_." Legolas watched as she stalked to the orc's wounded form. "How would you like it, eh? Skinned? Your tongue sliced from your mouth? Perhaps you would prefer me to carve your gut open and _then_ you can feel pain."

Her knife ticked his throat and he croaked out one last, feeble laugh before stiffening.

"You're not even worth my blade anyways." Runíla spat. She shoved the knife roughly back into her belt. She turned away, but one unexpected surge of anger seized her. Spinning around, she seized the orc's limp body by the armor and hurled it a good distance away, its limbs flopping like a rag doll's. A raw scream tore from her throat but the wind stole it away. An incredible fire burned throughout her, a violent anger that made her fingers practically itch to uproot every tree and mountain and personally mutilate every orc there ever was, but it was also the kind of anger that she knew no amount of revenge would quench.

So she fell to her knees and simply stared and her hands, folded limply in her lap. Legolas, Gimli and Théoden stared at her, all with sorrow, but only one with respect.

"Get the wounded on horses. The wolves of Isenguard will return." Théoden called to the remaining men. "Leave the dead."

At this, Runíla raised her head. Théoden was surprised at the cool mask her face had become. Legolas also stared at him, his countenance a mixture of confusion and anger. Théoden sighed and looked between the two elves.

"We must go." He turned away.

Slowly, with the air of one who has not had rest for years, Runíla rose. Gelion stood at the other end of the battlefield, and Runíla was glad to put a bit of distance between her and the cliff. She did not see Legolas bend to pick up something from the ground and pocket it, and she was to occupied with inspecting Gelion for injuries to see him wander around the battlefield.

She was about to mount when Legolas approached, handing her three of her arrows and a few knives she had used during the fight. She nodded her thanks without meeting his eyes, placing them back where they belonged. Slightly tentatively, he placed a hand on her shoulder. Surprisingly, she did not shake it off. It did not feel to Runíla like a pitying gesture, but rather an act of support, as if it was not him aiding her in any way, but them steadying each other against the tireless storm. Almost of its own accord, her hand traveled up to grasp his forearm. He nodded at her and she mounted Gelion.

As the thin group started towards Helm's Deep, Runíla didn't look back. First they lost Gandalf, then Boromir, both crippling blows. But when Gandalf returned it was as if their odds tripled. But going forward without Aragorn felt just about as useful as ascending stairs without any legs.

But throughout all the doubt, Runíla's most persistent thought was how this would affect Arwen.

* * *

><p>AN: Hello! So... parts of this chapter may suck, other parts may not. I was in kind of a hurry to update, sorry. I had a busier weekend than I thought. Don't expect any updates until this weekend (sorry, sorry, I know, I'm awful).<p>

PLEASE REVIEW! This is only my fourth battle scene _ever_ and I'm still learning. Constructive criticism is always welcome. Tell me any of your thoughts please!


	34. Chapter 34

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 34**

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><p>No matter where Runíla looked, she saw pain; weary mothers clung fearfully to their children, mens' faces were grim and downcast, people muttered prayers under their breath. Hooves on stone beat out a slow rhythm as people crowded around the soldiers who had managed to make it through the fight. Many fell to the ground and wept in despair at the sight of a riderless horse while others, few and unbelievably lucky, rushed towards their loved ones who had emerged unscathed.<p>

Runíla dismounted and refused to acknowledge anyone around her. She handed off Gelion and Aragorn's horse to a stable boy before following the king up a set of stone stairs. She passed Éowyn on the way up. She looked frightfully pale and wide-eyed, and Runíla knew she must have been told.

"Is i -" She started, unshed tears glimmering in her eyes.

Runíla could never stand crying, and it was just about the last thing she wanted to deal with at that moment. "Not now, Éowyn." She growled and swept by her.

The king led a group to the battlements, Runíla bringing up the rear. The stones of the fortress were weathered and cracked with age but seemed no less strong than the last time Runíla had seen it. The stronghold was hewn from a rugged rock face in a corner of mountains. One tall spire, the bottom half still partially encased in rock, hung over the fortress. A wall stretched to the other side of the mountain, curving inwards, creating an almost impenetrable barrier. Everything was in the same shade of hard grey.

"Draw all our forces behind the wall." Théoden ordered. "Bar the door and set a watch on the surround."

"What about those who cannot fight, my Lord?" Asked Gamling. "The women and children?"

"Get them into the caves. Saruman's arm will have grown long indeed if he thinks he can reach us here."

The soldiers dispersed to help with preparations while the king retreated to a private chamber and Runíla found herself alone in a crowd of strangers. She stood for a moment, just watching the fumbling and confusion, when a high-pitched voice called her name over the crowd. Little Freda was pushing towards her, tugging her brother and an unfamiliar woman after her.

"Here she is!" She told her brother excitedly. "I told you she'd be here! I told you!" She pointed at Runíla. "Mama, look!"

The woman, who Runíla assumed to be their mother, immediately took Runíla's hand in hers. She froze, not entirely sure what to do, but the woman payed no notice to her discomfort.

"I must thank you." Her eyes filled with tears of joy. "You helped bring my children into Edoras, and I appreciate it more than you know."

Runíla forced her lips into a small smile and casually tried to slip her hand out of the woman's grasp.

"It's fine. Éowyn watched over them most of the time, it is her you ought to thank."

"If there is anything I can do to repay you -"

"Oh, it's fine. Don't worry, you owe me nothing." Runíla glanced down at the little girl who beamed up at her, the little girl who had no idea what was coming. "Just stay safe."

The woman gave her a final tearful but wide smile and gathered her children close, pressing kisses to their heads. They made their way through the crowd, Freda turning back and waving at her. Surprised, Runíla gave a jerky wave in return, the corner of her mouth curving up just slightly. She was glad that despite the blood of countless people, young and old, that now soaked the earth, those two children had their mother's arms wrapped around them. It was more than she could say for many others.

* * *

><p>Runíla wandered in circles around Helm's Deep, trying to catch a glimpse of Gimli and Legolas. The noise pressed heavily on her ears and she slowly felt herself becoming a bit dizzy. Finally she gave up and forced her way through the commotion and into an empty storeroom in the hopes of finding a bit of quiet.<p>

It was comfortingly dark and unfurnished except for a few empty barrels and some bare shelves. It was probably meant to store food but provisions were so scarce that they most likely did not have any use for it. She sat heavily on one of the barrels, rubbing her forehead tiredly to try to get rid of the dull ache that lingered there. In the blackness her memories played out as if they were just before her; tracking with Aragorn for the first time, Arwen's radiant face when she first told a stunned and perplexed Runíla that she and Aragorn were in love, and, of course, Aragorn being swept over the cliff. The images played over and over again until she finally squeezed her eyes shut to try and forget about them, but they only flashed faster in her mind. At last she opened her eyes wide and was met with a blackness more deep and perpetual than she had ever seen.

She blinked suddenly in the light as the door opened. She caught Legolas's face for a moment before the door closed behind him and threw them into darkness. His shape was one she could barely make out, but it was defined enough for her to follow his figure as he dragged another barrel over and sat down.

"Hello." His quiet voice broke the silence.

Runíla nodded in greeting before realizing her movement was probably too small for him to see, and then gave a small grunt of acknowledgement.

"The women and children are just beginning to enter the caves. There's no sign of the enemy yet."

"Good." was her only reply.

He paused for a moment, then spoke. "I do not wish to bring this up... but I thought it would be better to address it sooner rather than later."

She grunted again.

"Where do you suppose we go after this?" He asked. "What more can we do?"

Runíla was silent. Aragorn had been a central leader from the day they set out from Rivendell. He almost always had an idea of their route, but now it was up to them.

"Well," She said softly. "I say we ought to find Merry and Pippin. Assuming we survive this place." She slapped the cool wall. "Then... I cannot say. I will go where the fighting is, but I cannot speak for you and Gimli."

"If you go to battle, then you can be sure that I will be by your side." He spoke surely. "Gimli as well."

"So together it is, then."

"Together."

They sat in silence, Runíla unsure if she should say something.

"How long until they come?" He asked quietly.

"It depends." Runíla replied. "If Saruman has managed to build up a large force, then they will strike soon. But if he does not have great numbers, I would not be surprised if we do not fight for at least a week. He knows how little provisions the people have. If there is the slightest chance we can overpower him, he may try and wait until we are all half starving to death." She sighed bitterly. "I cannot help but think how much easier this would be if we had another sound mind with us."

"Between the two of us, I believe we will be all right."

Runíla often wondered why he started being kind to her in the first place. After all, she hadn't exactly made a positive first impression what felt like years ago in Rivendell, and she did nothing to change that later on. She had come to the conclusion that it was partly because he was curious. She had seen his intrigue firsthand when he asked her about the places she had been, and also when wandering through Fangorn Forest. Runíla always saw curiosity as a hazard, until now. Legolas found even the most simple things, such as the precise color of the glaciers of the Ice-Bay of Forochel, endlessly riveting. And, Runíla decided, there was no crime in that.

"I suppose they could use our help out there." She said, her eyes trying to focus on the faint edges of his figure.

"You're right. Let's go."

They rose and opened the door, forging a path through the chaos.

* * *

><p>AN: I HATE WRITERS BLOCK. I'm so sorry this took as long as it did. I've sat down to write so many times and have struggled with what to say. But anyways, here's the next chapter. It's short, but I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm alive.<p>

I'd like to thank **LiteratureCat**, **Russian** **Flower**,and** Biderdider **for leaving me some really lovely reviews. :) You guys are the best! Also, to** LalaithElerrnia, **I know, I'm sorry, I've always struggled with verb tenses but I'm working on it. Plus, I wrote that chapter _ages _ago, so I'm not surprised if there's more mistakes than usual. I hope there is, at least.

Thanks, and _PLEASE_ keep reviewing!


	35. Chapter 35

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 35**

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><p>Runíla leaned against the battlements, her hands folded as she looked out over the plains that stretched out before the fortress. She had tried to offer help to the people preparing to move into the caves, but she was consistently met with awestruck silence or overly polite refusals. It seemed that now that Aragorn was no longer with them the people no longer trusted the elves. Or her, at least.<p>

Speaking with Legolas had left her with an equal but perplexing mix of relief and confusion. For years she had fought against the steadily rising power of Sauron's forces, but now they were at war. Runíla had no doubt that she would know how to handle it, for it was certainly not her first war, but there was no question that it was the largest one she had ever been swept up in. But preparing for a war is far different when the only person you feel obligated to watch over is yourself. Even when Runíla had fought with people such as Aragorn they both tended to go their separate ways in the confusion, each man (or woman) responsible for their own lives.

Not long after she first tracked Uruk-hai with a young Aragorn, it was a silent agreement that they would become friends. Runíla fought and hunted beside him, always believing that she would one day see him upon the throne of Gondor, and the kingdom would at last have a ruler. But instead the man who she believed would be the greatest king Gondor would ever see was pale and blue, lying limply on a shore somewhere, and would be suitable meal for crows and vultures within a few days.

She lifted her head, turning it towards the steady wind. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a crow flying close to the ground on the furthest edge of the plains. At first she payed it no heed, but then she realized that it was not remotely crow-shaped. Runíla strained her eyes to try and make out what it was. It was distant, even for an elf. After a few moments, she observed that it was in the shape of a man, traveling on what looked like a horse, but after the battle earlier she was wary of the possibility it could be a warg. Possibilities whirled through her mind; it could be an orc scout, or a messenger. Runíla focused on it as it headed closer, leaning dangerously far out over the battlements. She soon determined that the beast's gait was not long enough to be a warg's, but closely resembled a horse's, and its coloring was a bay or dark brown rather than a dirty tan.

"You!" She called over to a guard down at the bottom of the battlement's stairs. "Come here!" He hurried up the steps, looking a bit anxious.

"What can I do, milady?"

She was almost too caught up in the approaching figure to correct him. "See that, there?" She pointed at the figure. He squinted, following her finger.

"But that's just a crow, mi- er..." He trailed off nervously. "That's just a crow flying across the plains. D'you think that means they're gettin' close?"

"It is too far off to tell what it is yet, but mark my words, that is no crow." She said grimly. "Whatever it is, it's heading towards the fortress. Make sure that someone near the gate keeps it in sight at all times. If it is a friend, we should open the gates, but if it is an enemy, then we should be fully prepared to take up arms."

He nodded quickly. The certainty and authority with which she spoke caused him to forget that technically, none of the visitors had the right to give out orders, and he rushed away to carry out her instructions without delay.

In the meantime, Runíla trained her eyes sharply on the approaching figure. The afternoon sun's faint light was at its back, its almost pitch black form standing out like a tear in the subtle gold. Her focus was suddenly snatched away as she sensed someone familiar approaching.

"I heard you were giving out orders to a guard." Legolas said, leaning against the stone battlements next to her. "I doubt the king will be too pleased if it reached his ears that you were instructing his men."

"Well if he has a problem with that, then he can surely take it up with me." She replied absentmindedly, trying to focus on the ever-nearing figure.

"There was something I meant to show you earlier." His tone turned serious enough for Runíla to spare a fleeting glance in his direction. "During the battle, this must have fallen." He pulled a brilliant jeweled necklace from his pocket, one that Runíla was very familiar with. He now had her full attention. "That _yrch_ must have picket it up. It had fallen from his hand."

Runíla stood up straight and took it in her hand, turning it over, her fingers tracing the graceful lines of the jewel. It was the very same necklace that had hung around Arwen's neck from the very first day she had met her. It glowed from within, bright and pure as the elf who had worn it. It was many ages old, yet was as radiant as if it had been carved from rock just yesterday.

"I never knew..." She trailed off, stunned. "I never knew she gave it to him." A sudden look of torment flickered across her face and she went to hand it back to Legolas. He reached out his hand and pushed hers back.

"You should keep it." He said.

"No." She pressed it firmly into his hands. "I do not want it. Carrying it for me would be like bearing the world on my shoulders."

He nodded and pocketed it with care, looking out over the plains.

"Keep it safe, though." She said slowly, her words struggling. "For both their sakes'."

She lifted her eyes to him, but found his gaze was thoroughly absorbed with something on the horizon. When he spoke, he was so shocked that his voice was completely flat with disbelief.

"I might not have to."

Runíla spun immediately to face him.

"What?" Her tone was sharp.

A wide, astonished smile was slowly beginning to dawn on Legolas' face as he pointed down to the plains. "He looks familiar, doesn't he?"

The figure had gained ground swiftly while they had spoken, and now there was no mistaking it. It was Aragorn, damp, covered in blood and dirt, but still Aragorn. Doubts immediately ran through Runíla's mind - it could be a trap, for one - but she knew it was him.

"Could it really-?" Legolas breathed.

"Yes." Runíla gave a breathy laugh. "Unless he has an identical twin he's never spoken of."

"Quickly, they must open the gate!" Runíla found herself suddenly being tugged across the battlements by Legolas, who looked more excited than she had ever thought any elf could be. Surprisingly, she could not find it within herself to care how stupid they must have looked then, and it seemed that Legolas could not either. They stopped only when Runíla spotted Gimli.

"Gimli!" Legolas called. "Go down to the gates, he's back!"

Gimli knew there was only one person Legolas could have been referring to, and it certainly took him by surprise. But with one glance at Legolas' almost overly thrilled smile and Runíla's still dazed expression, he shrugged, and Runíla heard him say, "Well, it happened to Gandalf, why not with him?" And he hurried down to the gate.

Runíla rushed to the edge of the wall and soon saw the guard she had spoken to at the top of the battlements, squinting at a fast-appraoching Aragorn.

"Hey! Hey you!" She yelled, startling many people passing below, but successfully attracting his attention. "Open the gates!"

He immediately shouted orders down to men below, and the gates began to open just as Aragorn started up the path.

"We ought to go meet him." Runíla said, heading down the steps, but Legolas caught her arm.

"Wait." He pulled the necklace from his pocket. "You should be the one to return it to him." He pressed it into her hand and she spared him a small smile.

And when she slipped it into her pocket, she felt lighter than air.

* * *

><p>Runíla leaned against the wall, trying to appear casual. A great deal of commotion had stirred by the gate, and she knew it was not long before Aragorn would make his way up into the hall.<p>

Sure enough, he soon emerged from a crowd of dumbfounded people, his great strides carrying him quickly across the hall. He seemed very preoccupied, not even noticing Runíla as he passed her. She followed him for a few paces, then tapped him on the shoulder. Aragorn spun and smiled upon seeing his friend wearing a familiar smirk.

"It's good of you to show up." She said teasingly, clapping him on the shoulder. "I think perhaps you pushed the concept of 'fashionably late' a bit too far." Runíla looked him up and down, taking in his torn and threadbare clothes, bruises, deep scrapes and dirt caked skin.

He laughed, and the clenching in Runíla's chest eased seeing him happy.

"We missed you." He raised his eyebrows. "Truly. You should have seen Legolas when he saw you. He was so excited I thought he was going to hurt himself."

He sighed and his expression turned grim. "Well, that will not last long. I've got news that will certainly put a damper on his mood."

Runíla's stomach sank as she nodded. "What I would not give for a moment's peace." She muttered.

"Since when are you one to wish for peace?"

Runíla waved it off as if it was nothing. "This way." She said quickly. "I'll show you to the king."

She hadn't taken more than two steps when she stopped short and slipped her hand into her pocket.

"Wait." She pulled out Arwen's necklace and held it towards him. "We both know she would not be pleased if you lost this."

He took it gently from her hand, looking softly down at it before slipping it on. Already his haggard countenance seemed a bit lighter, his wearied shoulders a bit less burdened.

"Follow me." She said.

* * *

><p>When Aragorn told Runíla he bore bad news, she certainly hadn't expected anything as serious as the truth.<p>

"A great host, you say?" Théoden's voice was disturbingly distant and flat.

They were consulting in the keep; Aragorn, Legolas, Runíla, Gimli, Théoden and several of his main guards.

"All Isenguard is emptied." Aragorn said grimly.

Runíla was slightly relieved at this. Not a great deal of time had passed since Saruman declared his true loyalties, so surely he could not have built up a force like that of Mordor.

"How many?" A hint of weariness crept into Théoden's voice.

"Ten thousand strong, at least."

Runíla lifted her head suddenly. "That slimy bas -" She growled quietly, cut off by Legolas' hand on her shoulder. Théoden glanced up at her, but the turned to Aragorn.

"Ten thousand?!"

Runíla turned to Legolas and Gimli, this time making sure that she spoke quieter. "That must be impossible!" She hissed. "There is no way he could have built up such a force in so little time."

Legolas' mouth tightened and faint creases appeared on his brow, little signals showing he was just as upset as she was.

"It is an army bred with a single purpose: to destroy the world of men. They will be here by nightfall." Aragorn informed them.

"Well," Gimli sighed. "Better start digging the grave."

* * *

><p>AN: Hey, guys. Sorry this is so late, I really got stuck on this one. Plus, I had what you might call a stroke of genius with something which set me back a bit, and then there was that manhunt for the marathon bombing suspect, which is far too interesting to ignore when it's happening 30 minutes away. Hopefully after the BoHD things will start moving along a lot faster.<p>

Also, sorry for any grammatical, spelling, etc. mistakes. Once I finished this I wanted to get it up as fast as possible.

Runíla and Legolas are almost... childlike at one point in this one. Again, this is my theory that elves are less stiff at times then they are made out to be in the movies. Don't get me wrong, I _adore_ the movies, but elves are a great deal more lighthearted and merry when Tolkien wrote them.

Thanks for sticking with me, it means a lot :)

_**REVIEW!**_


	36. Chapter 36

**Chapter 36**

**A Flash of Red**

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><p>Runíla, Legolas and Gimli had no time to dwell on the miracle of Aragorn's return, and could only wonder as they were swept along in the blizzard of battle preparations. They accompanied Aragorn, Théoden and one of his guards along the Deeping Wall and to the gates, weaving among women and children gathering their meager belongings to take shelter in the caves. Soldiers hurried to carry out orders like reinforcing doors, stockpiling weapons, and ushering civilians out of the way.<p>

Théoden cut easily through the crowd, many people glancing over their shoulders to catch a glimpse of their king. The confidence and certainty in his stride was a reassuring sign to his people, although Runíla could not discern whether or not it was simply a mask hiding an anxious, lined face for the benefit of his people. He glanced up towards the sky every once and a while, marking the sun's height in the sky.

Already the sun had sunk far too low for Runíla's liking. Only a few hours remained until nightfall, and she knew from experience that they would pass far quicker than one believed they would. Often she increased her pace impatiently without realization and was almost constantly having to check herself. She settled for matching her strides with Legolas's and concentrated on the casual rhythm.

"I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms ready for battle by nightfall." Théoden ordered.

Runíla's mouth hardened into a remorseless line. She had seen young boys go to war before, many of them not much older than eleven, but that did not mean she was comfortable with it. They would need every last man they could get in the coming hours, but putting a spear and a shield in a young boy's hand does not make him a man.

The crowd had began to thin a bit as they approached the main gate and people began to make their way to the entrance to the caves. The door was already open enough for them to slip through while several men worked on nailing thick wooden boards to the doors. They only ventured a few feet out onto the walkway, for going any further felt like exposing themselves to the enemy, though they were nowhere in sight. They looked down upon the lifeless plain and Runíla tried to imagine what it would look like when crawling with Uruk-hai. Try as she might, she could not imagine a force as great as ten thousand.

"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above." said Théoden assertively, turning and inspecting the walls. "No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg."

"This is no rabble of mindless orcs." scoffed Gimli. "These are Uruk-hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."

Théoden looked down upon the dwarf. "I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep." He answered cooly.

Gimli, miffed, watched as Théoden swept past him and back inside the safety of the fortress. The others followed, Legolas clapping Gimli on the shoulder sympathetically as he passed.

The battlements were now clear of civilians, who had all moved deeper into the fortress. An entourage of guards now moved with the king as they climbed to the top of the wall.

"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn, we've seen it before. Crops can be resown; homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them." Théoden spoke surprisingly calmly. Runíla wondered if he had any idea just what ten thousand bloodthirsty monsters marching to wipe out his people meant. The fortress did not create an impenetrable wall between them and the enemy. It was centuries old, and would not remain forever. After all, nothing lasts. Every mountain weathers, every tree dies, every stone crumbles with time.

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages." Aragorn said exasperatedly. "They come to destroy its people. Down to the last child."

Runíla nodded approvingly. Théoden drew close to Aragorn, and in that moment they saw not the calm, unperturbed leader, but the king desperately attempting to give his people every shred of hope he could, false or not.

"What would you have me do? Look at my men." He hissed. "Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be their end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance!"

"Send out riders, my lord." Aragorn insisted. "You must call for aid."

"And who will come?" The king sneered. "Elves? Dwarves?" He nodded towards Legolas, Runíla and Gimli. "We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Gondor will answer." Aragorn said without hesitation.

"Gondor?" A cruel, bitter smile lifted Théoden's lips slightly. "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us?" His voice grew in volume and anger. "Where was Gon-" He cut himself off,and his face once more became void of all emotion. "No, my lord Aragorn... we are alone."

He headed off calling out orders, but Runíla was distracted by the flock of crows that swept over their heads.

* * *

><p>What seemed to be a solid sea of women, children and older people had amassed by the caves. Legolas, Aragorn, Runíla and Gimli had somehow managed to worm their way right in the middle of it. Aragorn walked first, completely engrossed in battle preparations. Runíla started by following closely and pointing out weaker points in the wall or the best strategy for spreading out the soldiers, but soon found herself paying more attention to Aragorn as he spoke. His eyes, slightly wider than normal, had a slight, almost frantic look about them and his stride was full of energy, all signs that adrenaline was the only thing keeping him on his feet at that point. Runíla sent a worried glance to Legolas, who finally spoke up.<p>

"Aragorn, why don't you find a place to lie down for a bit?" He said cautiously.

Aragorn's reply wasn't far from the one they expected. "No, I'm fine. I'm needed here. We'll place the reserves along the wall-"

"Aragorn, honestly, you've got to be exhausted by now." Runíla protested.

"You're no use to us half alive." Legolas added.

"My lord!" A call rose above the immense crowd. "Aragorn!"

Legolas and Gimli turned away to give them privacy while they spoke, but Runíla stood beside him, unaware. Legolas glanced back and quickly tugged her a few feet away.

"What was that for?" She hissed quietly.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at her and then to Aragorn and Éowyn, and then back again. Her face remained blank.

"Just wait here for a moment."

Éowyn wormed through the crowd, hurrying to Aragorn, her face clearly upset.

"I'm to be sent with the women into the caves."

"That is an honorable charge." Aragorn said respectfully.

Éowyn sighed. "To mind the children, to find food and bedding when the men return. What renown is there in that? Runíla is allowed to stay without question." Runíla tried to act as if she hadn't stirred at her name.

"My lady, a time may come for valor without renown. Who then will your people look to in the last defense?"

"Let my stand by your side." She begged.

"It is not in my power to command it."

"You do not command the others to stay!" Her voice rose in desperation. "They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you." Runíla turned and managed to catch Éowyn's face as her voice lowered to a soft tone. "Because they love you." Her eyes shimmered as she gazed beseechingly at Aragorn, before looking down. "I'm sorry." She said, slightly embarrassed.

Runíla turned to Legolas, her brow furrowed as she thought. "Is that what... is she?" Her words were jumbled and confused before she sighed. "Honestly, this is hardly the time. Ridiculous."

Luckily, Éowyn was out of earshot by that point. Or, at least, Runíla hoped she was.

* * *

><p>AN: Short one today. Sorry it's taken so long. I had a poetry contest to enter, and a horse show to prepare for!<p>

Enjoy, and PLEASE review! (I mean, I put off studying for this, it's the least you can do.)


	37. Chapter 37

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 37**

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><p>AN: I'm guessing you guys know the drill by know, but just so you know, Sindarin translations are at the bottom.<p>

* * *

><p>Nothing but quiet, nervous murmurs and the soft rustle of chain mail disrupted the tense air in the armory. Fewer than a quarter of the men who gathered there were fit and prepared for war, and the rest were young lads who had spent their childhood playing "war" and men far past their prime. Helmets covered the eyes of some of the boys, and many who had only ever handled hoe or hammer looked fearfully at the cool steel in their hands.<p>

Runíla was in the midst of instructing an elderly man how to hold his shield when someone cleared their throat behind her. She turned. A small boy, no more than eleven, stood before her. He was probably only just young enough to avoid having a sword thrust into his hand. He looked up at her with wide eyes and beckoned for her to bend down. Runíla knelt and leaned a bit closer to him. He cupped a hand by her ear and drew close, whispering to her. "Lady Éowyn would like you to meet her by the cave entrance, milady. She says not to tell anyone, and to hurry before the gates close."

The boy rushed away, darting through the crowd. Straightening up, she headed towards the door, stopping by Aragorn and Legolas. "I'm just heading out for a bit. Don't follow me." She said quickly. Legolas nodded and she was gone.

There was still a steady flow of young boys and older men being led out of the caves to be fit for battle. Runíla stayed close to the wall, trying not to draw much attention to herself, wondering what Éowyn could possibly want from her. They'd hardly spoken since the met a few days ago. She ducked into the cave entrance and was almost immediately pulled into a small hidden corner. She faced Éowyn, prepared to tell her off, but Éowyn spoke first.

"I need your help."

* * *

><p>Legolas had watched Runíla slip out of the armory for a moment before turning back to inspect their cobbled-together army. But soon his mind wandered off again and he stared blankly at the bleak stone wall, completely immersed in his thoughts.<p>

"Tell me laddie, what's so fascinating about that bit of wall over there?" Gimli finally asked. "It's the same dull grey as the rest of this place."

"Oh, nothing." Legolas abruptly jerked back to reality. He looked over at Aragorn, who was handing out battered helmets to a few soldiers. "Aragorn, how long have you known Runíla?"

"I was only a year or two old at the time." Aragorn answered. "I was to young to remember it, but she does."

"What more do you know of her?"

Aragorn stopped. "I cannot say that any of it is for me to tell." He answered carefully. "Why?"

"She wraps herself with a thick air of mystery." Legolas' fingers absentmindedly tapped against his thumb. "I would be lying if I said it does not make me curious."

Over the most recent portion of their journey, Runíla and Legolas had begun to form an odd sort of friendship, if you could call it that. Once they grew more comfortable in each other's presence, they tossed around the occasional joke, and found that when needed, they formed an bizarre team, the outcast and the prince, that they both grew to value more than they knew. When together, they drew a quiet strength from each other. I suppose it began to develop almost without either of them noticing, until they suddenly were certain that should the time arise, the other would never have to face battle alone, no matter if it was only the two of them left. It was, no doubt, a strange sort of feeling for Runíla, and one that she was not entirely sure if she ought to trust yet. And although they had now formed an unlikely, peculiar bond, there was still a lingering fear in Runíla's mind that the stronger this unconventional bond became, the more harsh the stinging truth would be, should it be bared. Legolas, however, was simply curious (though he admitted to being slightly alarmed upon hearing her curse for the first time, but now he had learned and accepted that she was certainly more... _roughly cut_ than any elf he had ever met). No possible suspicion had arose in his mind, for she had his complete trust.

Aragorn sighed. "Wonder all you wish, however, do not open your mouth unless she does. That is all the advice I can give to you. You ought to judge her for yourself."

Legolas continued to wonder, but all of his loose thoughts led to frustration.

* * *

><p>Runíla stood with her arms crossed, staring Éowyn down. She cocked an eyebrow and Éowyn continued.<p>

"Swear you will listen to me first. Completely." Éowyn said quickly, her chest heaving and her eyes bright with feverishness.

Runíla huffed and nodded.

"I want to fight." Éowyn said breathlessly. "I can handle a sword far better than any of the farmers or stable boys out there. We need every last man - or woman - we can get. I can help. But I need you to sneak me armor and a helmet."

Runíla's face remained hard and blank as she spoke. "Why?" She asked simply. "Why should I help you?"

"We're both women." Éowyn moved forward eagerly. "We have both suffered from the same oppression and discrimination that men deal so cruelly towards us. You have suffered through it, yet you have emerged a warrior, strong and hard, harder than steel. I want to do that. I want to prove that I have more worth than cooking and looking after the women and children."

"How good are you with a sword?"

"I have told you, I have more skill than most of those who will be fighting tonight."

"How often do you practice?"

"Every day."

"Let me rephrase that question." Runíla began to circle Éowyn. "How often do you practice with another person?"

Éowyn froze and looked down. "Not for over a year now." She raised her head, determined. "But I -"

Runíla held up a hand. "Don't. Let me tell you something about fighting that I have learned. Slicing through air is far easier than slicing through living, moving, unpredictable flesh." Runíla lowered her voice. "Do you want the honest, brutal truth?"

Éowyn nodded faintly.

"Even if this battle was not ten thousand against three hundred, you would most likely be slaughtered anyways. But in the end, it is your decision."

Runíla watched Éowyn's mouth tighten defiantly in an attempt to hide her disappointment and alarm.

"You doubt me because you have only known me for a few days, I understand that. You -"

"No, I doubt you because assuming you were able to become competent with a sword, not sparring with another person for over a year would have made you _very _sloppy. So I suggest you do yourself and your people a favor and stay were you are more likely not to get your head chopped off." Runíla replied without hesitation, her words more bitter and piercing than the winter wind.

"Alright then, you win." Éowyn said, exhaling sharply, but she was not done yet. "Then assuming we both survive this, will you practice with me? This is not the battle that will end the war, so will you train me for the next?" She asked firmly.

Runíla was silent for a moment, sizing Éowyn up. She did not appear to possess unusual strength, but the fire behind her words showed passion, which often times can be worth more in a difficult strait.

"Persistent. An honorable trait." She said thoughtfully. Éowyn straightened a bit at the complement. "If there's a chance we will not be completely overpowered, we will talk later. For now, _stay in the caves_." Runíla stressed, and she turned. "Good luck." And with that she slipped out of the crevice and out of the door. Éowyn stood there for a moment, unsure if she ought to be grateful or disheartened. A minute later, the doors to the cave were slammed shut, and she was trapped inside.

* * *

><p>Runíla ducked out of the cave and moved quickly back to the armory. As she approached the door she realized that it was strangely silent inside, with not as much as a single voice or clink of armor. She nudged the door open with her food, poking her head inside.<p>

Men shifted uncomfortably where they stood, ducking their heads as they formed a circle around Aragorn and Legolas. Aragorn's eyes flicked to Runíla and then back to Legolas, who's back was to her.

"_Boe a hyn... neled herain dan caer menig_." Legolas spoke bitterly, surveying the crowd of dismayed soldiers scornfully.

Runíla started forward, somewhat alarmed, for this was not the Legolas she had grown to know. His faith was always in his companions, no matter what. She watched what was unfolding in front of her with as much horror as the men around her.

"_Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras_." Aragorn reasoned.

"Aragorn, _nedin dagor hen ú-'erir. Natha daged dhaer!"_ Runíla had rarely heard Legolas speak with any anger in his voice, especially towards Aragorn.

Aragorn took several steps forward angrily. "Then I shall die as one of them!"

He and Legolas held each others' gaze firmly, both unrelenting. Runíla moved forward, the crowd parting for her. She passed a young boy who'd eyes were widened with fear and uncertainty, and she laid what she hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder as she passed. Aragorn lowered his eyes and swept out of the room. Legolas started after him, but Runíla came forward and caught his shoulder. She yanked him out the door by the strap of his quiver, throwing him before her. He spun towards her.

"Are you going to hit me?" He asked.

"Perhaps." Runíla folded her arms. "First, tell me where your brain has wandered off to, so you can possibly explain why you would say what you just did."

"You act as if you haven't been thinking it!"

"How do you know I have?"

"Who hasn't?"

"That does not mean I spill out every doubt in my mind in front of the people who frightened enough!" Runíla's voice rose almost to a shout. "How did you feel before you went into the battle for the first time?"

Legolas frowned. "I was anxious, mainly. I wanted to please my father."

"Think back to what you felt, then imagine ten thousand times that. You were _prepared_, you had a slight idea of what you were doing at least." Runíla's voice was now oddly emotionless, which worried Legolas. He would much rather have her be angry with him than disappointed. "These people have put their faith in these walls to protect them, and you have just shattered any hope they had of living to see another day."

"It was blind faith, hollow faith." Legolas argued.

"Blind faith is powerful. It could have given them the chance to fight their way out of this, but not anymore." Runíla said, starting to back up. "I hope you apologize to Aragron. If I were you, I wouldn't want what is probably my last conversation with my friend to be an argument."

She turned and walked away, and Legolas felt that he would rather her have slapped him.

Runíla mulled over her words in her mind and suddenly stopped short. _I wouldn't want what is probably my last conversation with my friend to be an argument._ She turned, but Legolas was already gone.

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><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Boe a hyn... neled herain dan caer menig_... And they should be... Three hundred against ten thousand?

_Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras... _They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras.

_Nedin dagor hen ú-'erir. Natha daged dhaer!... _They cannot win this fight... They are all going to die!

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><p>AN: So, sorry its been so long. I won't bother with excuses anymore.<p>

Hope you like it! I'm kind of rushing, I'll thank all my lovely reviewers next time. Off to Iron Man 3!

**REVIEW PLEASE!**


	38. Chapter 38

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 38**

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><p>Runíla turned down what seemed like the same corridor as the previous four she had walked down. Her pace increased with every step, along with her frustration. She could not imagine how difficult it was to find Aragorn and Legolas, as Helm's Deep was not particularly large or complicated. Her head spun with every turn she took, and she felt almost a little desperate to tell Legolas that she understood his doubts, and that one of the last things she wanted to see was his mangled body on the battlefield in just a few hours.<p>

Spinning around another corner, she halted, barely missing colliding with a soldier who was already clad in full armor.

"Pardon me milady," He spoke with extreme formality, clearly concentrating on every word. "I have been instructed to lead you to a chamber where you may prepare for battle."

"Thank you." She nodded.

"This way." He started off back the way he came.

"Could you tell me where my companions are?" She asked. "The dwarf, the elf, and the man."

"I apologize, milady." He turned down a hallway that, again, seemed to be a mirror image of every other hall in the fortress. "I have not seen them. If I do, I shall send you word."

"I appreciate that."

He halted before a heavy wooden door. "In here, you should find everything you need."

She nodded and pushed it open, starting inside.

"I must thank you, milady." He said quickly. "You and your companions give us hope, you especially."

"How so?" Runíla stopped and turned back to him, curious.

"You remind us that Rohan is not so very alone in this vast world." He bowed and hurried briskly off the way he came.

Runíla watched his back for a moment, then closed the door behind her. The room was barren except for a single table and chair. A basin of water and towel were what caught her eye first. Shrugging her weapons off, she splashed water on her face and wiped any trace of dirt from her hands. A shirt of chain mail lay beside it, and she slipped it on below her tunic. Next, she wiped down her vambraces, refastening them tightly. Leather shoulder pads were also provided for her, which she decided to put on. Runíla had gone centuries with little to no armor as she felt it weighed her down, but she knew that she might need it in such close quarters. Two straps secured them beneath her upper arm, and a black leather vest was connected to cover her torso. Her hair was soon tied back in a single tight braid and her swords and knives cleaned and sharpened carefully. After tightening her belt and checking her weapons numerous times, she picked up her bow, slung her quiver across her back with a deep breath, and left.

She had barely turned a corner when she came across Gimli stumbling down the corridor, his arms full with a chain mail shirt. She called his name.

"There you are, lass. We've been lookin' all over for you." He said. He might have been smiling, but his mouth was hidden by so many thick hairs that she could not tell.

"Where are Legolas and Aragorn?" She asked.

"In here." He opened a door to the right, and Runíla could not help feel a bit infuriated that she had most likely walked by that very door numerous times.

Gimli toddled precariously down the stairs, Runíla following quietly behind. He headed off to a room to the side to try on the chain mail shirt, but Runíla remained on the stairs, watching Legolas and Aragorn. Legolas held Aragorn's sword out to him, almost like a peace offering.

"We have trusted you this far." Legolas said, and Runíla clearly picked out a trace of shame in his voice. "You have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

_"Ú-moe edaved, Legolas_." Aragorn smiled kindly, and Runíla breathed a silent sigh of relief as they clapped each other on the shoulders.

She began to descend the rest of the stairs, clapping loudly. They turned to look at her, and she smirked. "Well done. I am glad this all settled. An argument between friends is the last thing we need now." She looked directly at Legolas then, hoping to convey some sort of apologetic look with her eyes.

Gimli broke the silence by waddling in, struggling with the chain mail which was caught around his barrel-like chest.

"We had time, I'd get this adjusted." He grunted, tugging at it, until it finally fell with a clash, pooling around his feet. He looked strained for a moment. "It's a bit tight across the chest." He grumbled.

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, and Legolas looked amused.

"I think it is quite slimming on you, Gimli." Runíla chipped in.

Her sentence was nearly cut off by a horn blaring nearby, a sound that Runíla had heard several times before, but had not once expected to hear then.

"That is no orc horn." All traces of amusement had vanished from his countenance as he leapt up the stairs, Runíla and Aragorn following close behind.

A group of men had gathered on the battlements in the growing darkness, clearly captivated by what they saw and the gates creaked open. Runíla, Legolas, Aragorn raced out, finally emerging at the top of the stairs. To their complete shock, Haldir stood at the bottom, smiling up at them beside the king.

"We come to honor that allegiance." He said proudly.

Behind him, several rows of elven warriors, armed and battle-ready, stretched along the causeway, four hundred at least.

Aragorn, Legolas and Runíla dashed down the steps. Aragorn bowed.

"_Mae govannen, Haldir_." Aragorn pulled him into an unexpected but warm hug, which Haldir returned, smiling.

"You are most welcome." Aragorn said warmly, releasing him.

"Brilliant timing." Runíla said, and they shook hands firmly.

She couldn't help a small grin from making its way onto her face. She was still hardly pleased with their odds, but she was most definitely grateful for the addition, and she was sure that the men were, too.

He and Legolas clapped each other on the shoulder, the army turning to face the prince of Mirkwood in unison as he stepped forward. Haldir turned back to Théoden.

"We are proud to fight alongside men once more."

No one noticed the narrowed pair of eyes that were trained to Runíla's back as they led Haldir up the stairs.

* * *

><p>The elves filed into their positions on the battlements quickly and quietly, and Runíla could not help but be impressed at their form. Each carried a bow and curved sword, which when compared to the weapons of Rohan, was like comparing gold to ash.<p>

Legolas, Runíla, Aragorn, and Gimli were among the last to take their positions. They gathered at the base of the battlements, pressed up against the wall for privacy.

"Do your best to stick together." Aragorn reminded them for the third time. "Be careful."

"You, too." Gimli reminded him.

"But above all," Aragorn continued, placing a hand on Gimli and Runíla's shoulders. "Stay alive."

"We will certainly try." Runíla said. "We will see you up there."

Aragorn nodded, giving them a wry smile before leaping up the stairs. Gimli hurried up after him, but Runíla caught Legolas's arm before he could follow.

"I-" She started, but he cut her off.

"I know that you are sorry. I will spare you having to say it." He said with a smile. "You were right, you were absolutely right, and I should be sorry. I am. Just know this: you were right about blind faith being powerful, and I would follow you blindly to the Black Gates, if need be."

Runíla gaped at him, stunned. Suddenly, he pulled her into a quick hug, letting go a moment later. He left a hand lingering on her shoulder as he smiled softly.

"Shall we go, then?" She said, her voice rather forced.

"Let's."

* * *

><p>Runíla stood at the very edge of the wall amidst a row on elven archers, the plains before her shrouded in black. Unseen clouds cloaked the stars, though the plain seemed to stretch out like the night sky, dark but peppered with flickering torches like stars. An enormous, unseen mass neared, their heavy footsteps mixing with the thunder.<p>

Legolas stood to her right and Gimli to her left as Runíla drummed her fingers restlessly on her bow. Her heart was thumping madly. Recent times had not called for her to aid in a battle of this scale in years, and she had nearly forgotten the thrill of the calm before the storm.

Her attention was drawn to Gimli as he hopped up and down.

"You could've picked a better spot!" He grumbled. His height caused the top of his helmet to just reach the top of the wall.

Legolas smirked, his eyes fixed on the oncoming enemy as Aragorn came to stand beside them.

"Well lad," Gimli sighed. "Whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

"You friends are with you, Aragorn." Legolas said quickly, and Runíla clapped Aragorn on his shoulder.

"Let's hope they last the night." Gimli said darkly.

Lightning flashed suddenly, giving them a glimpse of the rough shapes whose marching footsteps grew more overwhelming with every second. Rain fell lightly at first, but soon turned into a heavy, chilling downpour, fat raindrops pattering on armor and running down Runíla's nose.

Aragorn commanded their row of archers further down the line, and Runíla caught his yells over the torrential rain.

_"A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!"_

One raw, animalistic roar rose above the footsteps, and they halted abruptly. Runíla turned her head to the sky, letting the rain pour freely over her face.

"What's happening out there?" Gimli asked eagerly, as Runíla lowered her head.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas grinned down at him. "Or would you like me to get you a box?"

"However, in the meantime, how is the wall looking?" Runíla added, smirking.

Gimli laughed good-naturedly and Legolas and Runíla turned back to the enemy.

* * *

><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Ú-moe edaved, Legolas... _There is nothing to forgive, Legolas.

If you don't know what _Mae govannen_ means by now, shame on you.

_A Eruchîn, ú-dano i faelas a hyn an uben tanatha le faelas!..._ Show them no mercy, for you shall receive none!

* * *

><p>AN: I love how whenever I type "Runíla" it tries to correct it to "Runnel". That amuses me.<p>

Sorry if you didn't get a notification last chapter, something weird was going on. Usually I get emails about all the activity (reviews, follows, etc.) that I get, but I wasn't getting anything. Hmm. There must be something up with the website.

I apologize if the past few chapters have seemed a bit boring to you, but trust me, there will be plenty of new twists coming up. In the meantime, I shall say no more.

I have LOTS of thank yous to make, so bear with me.

**Seriya Silvermist** - If you think I'm diabolical now, just you wait and see. Also, good for you for pointing that out, but all will be revealed in time.

**Elves are awesome** (Indeed they are) - Thanks so much for your support! :)

**AmazingWriter1234** - Hmm, weird... something is definitely up with the website. Thanks for the support!

**Poison1234** - Thank you SO much! Also, thank you for being considerate about Runíla's "anger issues"... I've gotten some bad reviews on that but I think it shows just how much her past and being away from her own people has changed her. Am I allowed to talk about my own character here? Oh well.

**SpiritKiss - **I know right! How dare she! :P

**EvilCarrotNinja** - Well, I just blew off studying to write this _entire_ chapter so... you're welcome.

_THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO HAS REVIEWED!_Your comments really mean a lot!

Keep it up!


	39. Chapter 39

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 39**

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><p>Runíla grasped her bow firmly as the swarming mass of Uruk-hai halted before them. They were already soaked to the skin, but the numbing chill only made Runíla more inflamed and adrenalized. With another immense roar from their leader, they began slamming their spears into the dirt and their jagged swords against thick metal chests. The thudding was accompanied by bloodthirsty snarls, and many of the improvised soldiers who had never seen war cowered behind the wall in terror.<p>

Further down the line, she heard the familiar _twang_ of a bowstring, and the thumping abruptly ceased.

"_Dartho_!" Yelled Aragorn, and everything but the constant rain was silent.

With a drawn-out groan, one of the orcs in the front line toppled over, an arrow protruding from its mouth. Furious growls arose from the army, and with another savage roar, their leader ordered them forward. Their teeth were bared barbarically, ready for blood. The Uruk-hai charged forth, their torches like a galaxy coming to meet them in the blackness.

And so it began.

"_Tango a chadad_!" Aragorn commanded.

Almost completely in unison, the line of archers, including Runíla and Legolas, notched arrows into their bows and drew them carefully back. They blinked the rainwater out of their eyes as it streamed down their faces, focusing on their selected target through the sheets of rain. Runíla's eyes were trained on one orc in particular, her fingers curled firmly around the tense string. She forced herself to breathe evenly, in and out, waiting for the command to fire.

_"Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc._" Legolas murmured.

"Aim well." She replied quietly.

She spared a quick glance at him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes met hers and she gave a quick but scrupulous nod, which he returned. They both returned their fixated stares to their targets.

_"Leithio i philinn!" _Aragorn cried, and Runíla let the string slide from her fingers with a spray of rainwater.

A good number of Uruks from the first few lines fell instantly as the arrows descended upon them. Runíla reloaded immediately, eager to fire again.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli asked.

"I am mildly insulted by that, Gimli." Runíla said lightly, choosing her next target.

Another volley of arrows was released by the men of Rohan, felling another group of Uruks as they came ever closer to the wall, their spears pointing maliciously upwards.

"_Ribed bant!_" Aragorn yelled, and arrows whizzed past Runíla's head from the elves behind the wall, some nearly snagging in her braid.

"Send them to me!" Gimli grumbled restlessly, gripping his axe. "C'mon!"

Something stirred within the mass, and Runíla spotted colossal ladders rising up, some Uruks clinging to the top like insects on a twig.

"_Pendraith_!" Aragorn warned. "Swords! Swords!"

"Good!" Gimli chuckled.

Runíla quickly fired two more arrows before stowing away her bow and eagerly whipping out her swords just as a ladder crashed against the wall. A berserk Uruk, wearing no armor but a helmet and a ragged loincloth, leaped out, slashing its sword wildly. Runíla ducked easily under its first swing, blocking his blade with one sword and slitting its stomach with the other.

More Uruks crawled up the ladders and onto the wall, practically throwing themselves at the soldiers waiting for them. Berserker Uruk-hai were vicious, but also careless and not very intelligent, as Runíla had learned, and it took only some simple sword work to take them down. She brought down her first eight or so deftly, quickly but unintentionally becoming separated from Legolas and Gimli in the melee. She cut down several more from behind, then slashed another rapidly across the throat. Her blades were soon slick with blood and rainwater, sliding almost effortlessly. Another rushed her, but she spun around it and buried her sword in its side with a backwards thrust.

There was something so rousing and electrifying about large battles, something that Runíla had long forgotten until this point. It was so much easier for her to be lost in the carnage, in the mess of swords and limbs, when fighting with an army. She felt as if she was in the very center of chaos, but she was not a part of it. She ruled it.

Runíla parried a blow from one Uruk as another spun towards her. She deflected its attack as well, slashing its thigh as she buried her sword in the others' gut. She pulled the Uruk impaled on her sword in front of her and shoved it into the remaining Uruk, decapitating it while it was unbalanced.

Chancing a glance over the enemy, she noticed that the Uruk-hai had formed a circle around a bottom part of the wall. She checked around her, then rushed over for a closer look. Several Uruk-hai heaved two enormous, giant, metal spheres, tossing them into the drain, the only opening in the wall. One berserker from the mass of Uruks emerged, a sputtering torch in hand as it sprinted to the drain. Runíla was not sure what it would do, but she could not imagine anything good. Saruman was wickedly clever; it would certainly not be surprising if he had devised some deadly war device. She raced along the wall, pushing people and Uruk-hai's aside and leaping over the fallen. Not far behind her, Aragorn had also picked up on the Uruk's actions.

"_Togo hon dad, Legolas!_" He yelled, and although Runíla heard him, her pace did not slow as she closed the distance between her and the point of the wall.

Legolas's first arrow hit the Uruk squarely in the shoulder but it still did not slow down. Runíla picked up speed, somehow already set on what she was going to do without even sparing a thought about it. With an enormous leap, she set one foot on the top of the wall and launched herself off of it, swords flashing dully with torchlight. She was surprisingly calm, giddy, almost, as she flew through the air, looking down upon the almost solid black host of Uruk-hai that teemed beneath her. The dull thought of how miniature and insignificant they seemed below her crossed her mind until she felt herself begin to fall, a familiar voice distantly screaming her name.

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><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Dartho_... Hold

_Tango a chadad_... Prepare to fire

_Faeg i-varv dîn na lanc a nu ranc... _Their armor is weak at the neck and beneath the arm.

_Leithio i philinn..._ Release the arrows

_Ribed bant... _Full volley

_Pendraith_... Ladders

_Togo hon dad, Legolas... _Bring him down, Legolas

* * *

><p>AN: First things first, I'd like to apologize for the somewhat abrupt ending last chapter. I guess I forgot to save or something before I updated and I missed a huge chunk at the end. It was originally supposed to be much more cliffhanger-y. My bad, sorry.<p>

Short chapter, I know. I just have been dreaming about leaving you guys hanging with this for ages.

So the emails are working again! Yay! I saw something on the front page of the website that said they had to take them down for a while, I don't know why.


	40. Chapter 40

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 40**

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><p>With a bit of aim and a great deal of luck, Runíla managed to land painfully but directly on top of her target. The Uruk grunted, it's torch slipping from his hand and rolling away in a thick cloud of smoke. Runíla quickly pinned it down, slicing its throat open before it could attempt to defend itself. She quickly jumped up, sheathing one of her swords and snatching up the fallen torch. Inching backwards, she put her back to the drain, holding the sparking torch and sword threateningly before her. The strange black devices still rested at the back of the drain, but she had no intention of allowing any Uruk-hai near them.<p>

Water sloshed around her feet, and she searched for even footing on the loose rocks. The other Uruk-hai, bewildered at first, began to close in, gnashing their teeth and swinging their weapons eagerly. She snarled right back, twirling her sword, and the first Uruk-hai came charging at her, followed by about eight more. Shoving the torch in the first's face, Runíla began to parry, duck, and strike at a remarkable pace. Uruks gradually pressed in until she was cornered, what felt like the entire army swarming around her, a spark in a mountain of ash.

As she felled another with a wild slash across the face, she noticed several Uruk-hai around her collapsing without being anywhere near her. Risking a glance up, she scanned the wall, and admitted to being at least a little pleased at the sight she saw. Legolas stood at the edge of the wall, his arrows mingling with the rain as they showered on top of the Uruks.

Runíla ducked beneath a sword, shoving her sword into one Uruk's gut and the torch into another's. She yanked her sword out with a grunt, lifting it to block another strike. With the sharp _clang_ of metal, they connected, and she spun beneath it. A well-aimed kick to the leg brought it down as her sword dug deep into the flesh of yet another member of the onslaught. She finished the other off with a thrust in the back, kicking it out of her path.

No matter how legendary or talented the fighter, there is only so much one can do about numbers. They can be held at bay for a while, but it is only a matter of time before they press forward, slipping past even the tightest of defenses. Runíla fended them off for a good amount of time, but she found herself being pulled farther and farther away from the wall, and she knew that one could slink behind her and attack.

Being wary of this, she hurled the torch over the Uruk-hai's heads, a trail of smoke following it through the air. It disappeared somewhere in the melee, but Runíla was rewarded with several shrieks of unsuspecting Uruk-hai. While the others were distracted, she unsheathed her other sword, striking out with greater force. Bodies were now piled about her feet, strewn about in the shallow water. They created a crude but somewhat effective boundary between her and the oncoming forces.

As another Uruk was brought down, the ones that crowded her began to back away. She tugged her sword from its throat, holding her head high.

"What is this?" She sneered, defiant. "Ten thousand or so against one and you've decided to give up?"

The Uruk-hai began to part before her, raising their heads to the heavens and roaring while pounding their chests. An Uruk emerged from the line, parting the crowd easily, rising at least a head taller than the others. Runíla quickly recognized it as the Uruk who she had distantly seen commanding the forces towards the wall. Puckered scars ran across its bare, muscled chest, marring the pale white hand painted there. A broadsword rested casually in its hand as it moved forward, its body bare except for a strip of cloth. Yellow eyes narrowed as it saw her, its teeth bared sadistically.

Runíla took a deep breath, bending her knees and drumming her fingers on her sword hilts anxiously. One of Legolas's arrows buried itself swiftly in its bulging shoulder, but the Uruk simply yanked it out and cast it on the ground before him and spitting on it. The arrow snapped as it stepped on it, urged on by the howling and chanting Uruk-hai that now surrounded the two.

It bared its teeth in a grotesque smile, bowing its head mockingly. It leapt towards her unexpectedly, swinging the enormous broadsword as if it had the weight of a small knife. She ducked under its first swing, and then under its second. She tried to sidestep around it, but it spun with agility remarkable for its size, forcing her back to a wall of Uruk-hai. They jabbed her in the back with their swords, but made no marks upon her skin before shoving her back towards the Uruk. This time as she was stooped beneath its blade, she whipped out a knife, driving it into its foot and twisting it. With a howl, the Uruk lifted its leg, propelling its knee into her jaw. Blood flooded her mouth from a cut on her lip as she yanked the knife out, aiming to shove it into his stomach. Its hand caught her wrist like a vice, twisting the knife from her hand. He keeled over slightly from the force of her knee in its groin, and she wrapped her hand around its wrist and wrenched it down. Before she could turn behind it to get a clear strike at its back it gripped her arm and pulled her back, sinking its teeth hungrily into her arm, the Uruk-hai that lined the circle clamoring with glee. With a pained yell, she plunged her sword into its side, tugging her arm from its mouth. Rain mingled with the blood that seeped from her torn sleeve as the Uruk gave her a broad, bloody grin. She countered its swing with her sword, sweeping the other up to its mangled side. It caught her blade mid-swing, closing its palm around the steel. Shoving its sword out, the Uruk caused Runíla to step back to steady herself. It faked a strike to her left side while bringing its wounded hand up, smearing its sticky, warm blood in a streak across her face. While it was close to her, she slipped one of her swords behind it. Her blade tore a gash in the Uruk's back. It growled, stepping back, and while its left hand was pressed to its new wound, she spun behind it. Runíla yanked his head up with a fistful of its scraggly hair, her sword making the final cut across its throat. She stepped back and let it fall, gurgling on its own blood. Runíla watched, satisfied, along with the startled Uruk-hai as its body gradually ceased convulsing and lay still. She allowed herself a moment of celebration, but that was her biggest mistake.

The Uruk-hai erupted, beating their chests and roaring in wrath. One leapt forward bearing another torch, and Runíla realized with a jolt how far from the drain the fight had brought her. She dashed forward desperately, but she knew she would not be able to reach it. The Uruk threw itself fearlessly into the drain as Runíla ducked behind a pile of bodies, pulling a discarded shield over her head.

Runíla did not see the explosion, but she felt it and she definitely heard it. An enormous piece of the wall was blown away in a blast of rubble and bodies, the smoke reaching twice as high as the wall. Runíla was thrown forward arms splayed on the ground. Stones rained down upon the Uruk-hai army, some large enough to crush them. One of the smaller ones left a dent on the shield that protected Runíla's head and a ringing in her ears, and she lay there, dazed.

A moment of surprising calm overcame the fortress and the forces surrounding it, but it was soon broken as Uruks charged eagerly into the rush of water, some diving headfirst.

When Runíla raised her head, she was caught in a cloud of dust. She retrieved her fallen swords and stood, wiping dirt from her lips and smearing the blood from her sliced lip in the process. The cloud quickly cleared, revealing the current state of the battle. The Uruk-hai had brought a battering ram up the causeway and were ramming it against the door while others were making their way through the new gap in the Deeping Wall. Many of the men of Rohan threw stones and spears at the Uruks from above, while the elves were now scattered and few.

Runíla shook her head a bit and dashed off after the Uruks invading the wall. A familiar rumbling yell sounded from the top of the wall, and she raised her head just in time to see Gimli leap from the wall and land atop several Uruk-hai. He stood, yelling for Aragorn as he struggled to fend off Uruk-hai in water that reached his upper legs. Runíla rushed over to help him, ducking as a volley of arrows felled the first line of Uruk-hai crossing the gap in the wall. Gimli laughed at the sight of her she helped him up before taking out her bow and loosing a few arrows at the Uruks.

"There you are, lass! We thought you'd flown away!"

Runíla and Gimli darted through the gap, regrouping with Aragorn and most of the remaining elves. The water splashed all over Runíla's legs and front, but there wasn't a single part of her that wasn't already soaked to the skin. She hardly even noticed the chill anymore.

Turning and facing the coming Uruks, Runíla waited.

"_Herio__!_" Aragorn yelled, raising his sword, and the charge began.

Runíla began to run as they caught up with her, sprinting side by side with Aragorn as she batted a spear away with her sword and dived into the pack of Uruk-hai. She slashed at any mottled skin she saw, even using her fists when she needed to. Occasionally she would glance at the elves nearby. There weren't many firsts left for her in that world, but fighting alongside elves was one. Their movements were fluid and precise, but she had to admit that their armor seemed a bit too flashy.

She was in the midst of decapitating another Uruk when one in front of her fell victim to a familiar yellow fletched arrow. Legolas emerged from behind the wall, sliding down the stairs on a shield while firing at orcs. When he reached the bottom, he kicked the shield out from under him and it stabbed an Uruk-hai in the throat.

"Impressive!" Runíla called as she slammed her foot into the gut of an Uruk, sending it down into the murky water and thrusting her sword in its back.

"It's nice to see you've made it this far." He grinned quickly, firing arrows continually.

"You too!"

The Uruk-hai were now concentrating a large portion of their forces on the gap, and they continued to flood in, pushing Runíla, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and the remaining elves further back.

"Aragorn! Fall back to the Keep!" Gamling yelled from the top of the wall. "Get your men out of there!"

Aragorn nodded. "_Nan Barad!"_

Runíla glanced up at the top of the wall, searching for a glimpse of Haldir. Her eyes were instantly dragged to a mop of brown hair poking out from beneath a pile of rubble at the edge of the wall, and her ears picked up on muffled sobs. She rushed to the stairs, taking the three at a time and shoving the Uruk-hai who tried to attack her off.

"Runíla, what are you doing?" Aragorn bellowed. "_Nan Barad__!_"

She simply finished mounting the stairs, cutting down an Uruk-hai who tried to stand in her way. Crouching near the mop of hair, she spoke, trying to watch her back at the same time.

"What are you doing here?"

A small boy, no more than eleven, looked up at her with eyes driven wide wither terror. His knees were pulled up to his chest to hide him behind the rubble from the blast and dirty streaks of tears smeared his round face. He said nothing, curling his legs closer to his slight frame and hunching down more.

"The men are being pulled back to the Keep!" She yelled over the din. "Come with me, and you'll get inside the castle safely."

His gaze shifted around for a moment before he nodded quickly. Runíla stood, making sure the boy had a firm grip on her cloak. She did not bother with killing every Uruk-hai in her path, instead shoving them out of the way, one hand on the boy's wrist. They reached the entrance to the fortress, where very few Uruk-hai had invaded. Runíla pried the boy's hand carefully but hastily from her cloak, bending down.

"You can inside from here, just run as fast as you can." She said hurriedly. "Do you know the way to the caves?" The boy nodded. "Good. Hurry there. I must go and make sure that my friends are alright."

The boy nodded fearfully.

"_Go_!" She urged, and he took off at a sprint.

Runíla ran back onto the wall, ramming her shoulder into one Uruk and sending him flying. She heard her name from the other end of the wall and turned to see Haldir, sweaty but determined, still fighting strong. Leaping over bodies from both sides, she began to pick her way over to him. Slipping a dagger from her belt, she threw it towards an Uruk-hai, stopping it in its tracks. She bent to yank it from its throat and then rose, turning to Haldir.

A streak of angry red ran down his arm as he swayed, the look on his face almost surprised. His sword was held loosely in his hand, the injured arm held out in front of him as if he was repulsed by it. Behind him a dark figure rose, arms raised to strike. Runíla dropped her swords where she stood, tearing another dagger from her belt. The first landed perfectly in the Uruk-hai's eye socket while its sword fell, followed by the second, which pierced its other eye. It staggered backwards, bellowing as it fell.

Runíla caught Haldir before he fell, her hands becoming slick with the blood that blackened his cloak. His breath came in shuddering gasps, and his face was contorted in pain. The Uruk-hai managed to make a gash several inches long before he fell to Runíla's knives.

"Runí-" He began to mumble, but she cut him off.

"Quiet." She insisted, sheathing her swords before throwing his arm around her shoulders. "Legolas!" She yelled, heaving Haldir up with her. She could just glimpse him below.

"What do you need?" He asked.

"Haldir is hurt, I need to bring him inside safely!"

Legolas was up the steps in hardy any time at all, his arrows imbedded in any Uruk-hai that dared venture anywhere near Runíla and Haldir as they staggered to the castle. She gripped the side of his armor to prevent him from slipping, his feet dragging uselessly on the ground as his head began to loll back.

"No!" She struggled, quickly letting go of his armor to slap him across the face to revive him. "Not yet."

She pulled him inside the castle, nodding her thanks to Legolas. "I suppose I will have to find a closet somewhere to stuff him in for now." She groaned, shifting his arm on her shoulders. "I will not be long." He nodded, racing back outside as Runíla banged on the next set of doors. "Open up! We've got an injured soldier!"

Boards shifted behind the door and a minute later, it opened. Only three visibly shaken men guarded it, their faces peering cautiously out. They took one glance at Haldir and Runíla and let the door swing open, ushering them inside. She lay him on an empty table on the far side of the chamber.

"Please tell me that one of you knows how to bandage a wound." She panted., and one tentatively raised his hand. "Lovely. You had better do a damn good job."

And she swept out the door, leaving the three men to tend Haldir, who's blood now stained the table.

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><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Herio..._ Charge

_Nan Barad..._ To the Keep

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><p>AN: Whew! Almost done with Helm's Deep (for some reason I keep typing Helm's Depp... it is not the castle of Johnny Depp), and then its on to RoTK! Time flies.<p>

And wow, 40th chapter? This is getting _long_.

I hope you guys are pleased with this, because its the most I've ever written in one sitting and I really should be doing some work right now.

I'll thank all my lovely reviewers next time, I'm really tired now. But THANK YOU ALL, KEEP IT UP!

Yeah, so I decided to take some creative liberties with the story. After all, Runíla would be completely pointless if Runíla didn't impact the story at all and just killed a bunch of orcs all the time. But anyways. I just love making her interact with young kids. We've seen how she doesn't really know how to act around them, but when she needs to get something done, she pulls through. Go her. Wow, I must be the most pretentious author ever, I'm cheering for my own character. That must be a first.

**REVIEW!**


	41. Chapter 41

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 41**

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><p>It was well into the night by then, though nearly impossible for anyone to tell the hour. The clouds blended with the sky, making everything a deep black. The rain had refused to let up, mixing with the blood that was spattered across the battlements. It took only a single look at the battle to realize that victory was far out of reach for Théoden's sparse army. The Uruk-hai were nearly through the main gate at the top of the causeway, and Runíla's few friends were nowhere to be seen.<p>

The walls were almost completely deserted of men and elves, who had either fled or whose bodies were strewn on top of the countless others that littered the ground. There were, however, plenty of Uruk-hai remaining. Runíla looked out during one rare moment of peace to see just how far out Saruman's army still stretched. A sickening feeling, which Runíla later distinguished as dread, began to take root in her gut. But as she saw the dim figure of a man plummet off the wall, she forced it down. _For my friends,_ she thought. And she fought on for the bonds she had made, the bonds she valued, and the bonds she would grow to value more than blood.

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><p>Runíla did not bother with where she was, she simply threw herself towards every Uruk who came her way. She no longer felt the rain, the force of the clash of blades, or the occasional graze of a sword. She had a distant feeling that the puncture marks from the Uruk-hai's bite ought to be stinging at least a little bit, but it was overcome by the simple but oddly comforting sensation of heavy breathing and labored grunts. The number of Uruks she had hewn down by that point was lost to her, but she reckoned that it must have been over a hundred.<p>

A muddle of yells caught her attention. "Fall back! The castle is breached! Retreat!"

That odd feeling in her gut surged up again, and she quickly finished off an Uruk-hai before heading in the direction of the doors. She joined the mob that rushed inside, slipping into the main hall. The doors were slammed shut as soon as the last man was through.

The sight of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli was at least somewhat relieving, but the amount of men that had survived was not. With a quick glance, Runíla realized that not a single Lothlórien elf had survived, with the exception of Haldir. He lay still, feverish, and mostly silent, his makeshift bandages already soaked through and staining the table.

The doors shuddered with each colossal slam, as if the entire world were throwing themselves at the only thing between them and the people huddled inside, and suddenly the ancient wood seemed very fragile. Runíla could only imagine what the women and children were imagining in the caves below.

She dragged a bench from the far corner of the room, propping it up against the door. A few crushed men gave her odd yet empty looks.

"What?" She snapped, exasperated. "If I'm to be slaughtered in this room, I'd like to stand in it for as long as possible."

With glum but desperate shrugs they joined her, dragging over tables, benches, anything they could find, their panic increasing with each crash of the doors.

Runíla soon found herself holding opposite ends of a bench with Legolas. She glanced at him as they heaved it over to the door, watching his furrowed, determined brow and quick movements. Would this be an opportune moment? Surely standing at Death's door (or, rather, Death standing at their door) would be the final chance to own up to him. But should they die in a few moments' time, was that truly what she wanted his last thought of her to be? that she had been false with him, that she, despite her bravery, had been to much of a quivering coward to confess her crimes? Her thoughts were bitter and cruel in her head as she waged her internal war. Mentally she scolded herself. He would value the truth. Wouldn't he?

There were moments of cowardice in Runíla's life, but they were few and far between, and she was ashamed to admit that that was one of them. She held her tongue as they braced the door, only meeting eyes for a fleeting moment. There is one thing, however, that must be made clear. In that moment, there was a difference between the cowardice that Runíla felt, and fear. There was no fear, no trembling heart inside her. The cowardice was not for the host that threatened to slam down the doors, but for her own ignorance. She could not be sure whether Legolas's reaction would be one of forgiveness or fear, and she was not yet willing to take such a risk.

It was, indeed, a selfish thing. Though Runíla did not know this, Legolas would have respected her honesty and admired her for it. But she kept her pride behind glass, and she believed for it to be broken would be the most disgraceful thing.

She forced the issue into the back of her mind as she jammed another table behind the doors, but her attention was soon drawn to Aragorn. A soft ray of early morning light was just beginning to emerge from the high window, throwing the room into pale light and banishing the shadows from even the deepest corners.

"Ride out with me." She heard him say. "Ride out and meet them."

She turned to him, and for a moment she thought she saw him grow tall in the light, his shoulders squared in a dignified, kingly manner. And for a second she believed that the sun formed a brilliant, golden crown that sat upon his head, the crown he was born to wear.

"For death and glory." Théoden said firmly, his eyes lit with a fire that would have rivaled that of his great ancestors.

"For Rohan. For your people."

"The sun is rising!" Gimli exclaimed as the room was filled with more golden rays, flooding the hearts of the remaining soldiers as it grew.

Gandalf's words came back to them then. _Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east._

"Yes! Yes!" Cried Théoden, rising his men up with his exclamation. "The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the deep one last time!"

Gimli let out a fierce shout of joy and rushed up the stairs to sound the horn as Théoden put his hand firmly on Aragorn's shoulder, finally marking him as his equal.

"Let this be the hour when we draw swords together." He said passionately. "Bring out the horses! We shall trample the filth beneath our feet! As the morning dawns, so shall justice and honor!"

There was new life in their limbs again, and fervent passion in their hearts. A few men rounded up the horses, quickly strapping on the saddles and bridles. The door was left untouched, splintering more with each hit. Aragorn hurriedly dragged Haldir into a back room, wrapping his limp fingers around a sword hilt and bolting the door.

"Here." Runíla handed Legolas a longer sword of Rohan make. "Your knives aren't quite long enough. You'll need this."

He accepted it with a nod and a thrilled smile, which she returned. A rousing surge of energy had pumped through her, and she felt as if she hadn't fought in years and was almost hungry for battle.

She patted Gelion's neck firmly. "_Lle desiel, mellon nîn? _This dawn, we make our ancestors proud."

Swinging herself onto his back, she tossed the reins aside and drew her two swords.

"Fell deeds awake. Now for wrath! Now for ruin! And a red dawn!" Théoden cried, mounting his horse.

The horn rumbled through the walls as Gelion pranced on the stone. With one final crash the door burst open, splinters flying everywhere as the Uruk-hai charged in.

"Forth Eorlingas!" He yelled, and Runíla spurred Gelion forward, swords raised high.

The Uruk-hai fell easily below their feet as they charged out of the chamber and through the fortress, onto the causeway and into the early morning haze. The Uruks were scattered everywhere as they slashed and stabbed downwards, trusting their horses to lead them through the fray. Saruman's forces had no means of fighting back, as they were packed tightly together.

Time was on their side. The sun began to gradually ascend into the sky, disorienting the Uruk-hai. Runíla could hardy remember a time when she had felt more giddy. _This,_ she thought as she rode past crumpled ladders and the mangled bodies of men and elves, _this is justice._

Victory, at long last, was clear as the sun peaked over the hills. The Uruk-hai shielded their faces, moaning in pain at the blinding light. Runíla raised her sword and let out a fierce yell of triumph. But there was a figure there, the sun blazing at its back. A familiar white horse lifted up onto its back legs, its rider dressed in white. Runíla almost laughed at the sight. The sun was blocked out for a moment as a darker figure joined Gandalf, and a mass of riders followed him. A distant cry echoed down into the valley.

"To the king!"

With swords raised and battle cries on their lips they charged down the hill, scattering stones as they went. The Uruk-hai's hastened to gather together, pointing spears towards the charge, but they were no match for them now. The horses leapt over the row of spears as a brilliant blaze of light appeared. The Uruk-hai howled, dropping their weapons to shield their eyes. The Rohirrim carved their way easily through the disoriented Uruk-hai.

"Victory! We have victory!" Théoden cried, and the men fought on with smiles on their faces.

The Uruk-hai were felled quickly, and soon the remaining ones grouped together, dashing for a forest. The riders, fierce with the thrill of victory, pursued them almost to the border.

"Stay back from the forest!" Éomer called, halting his men, and Runíla pulled Gelion to a halt. "Keep away from the trees!"

Runíla had heard stories of the Ents of Fangorn Forest, but she had never looked upon one herself, and until that glorious morning she never thought she would. But the riders watched in awe as treetops began shaking and moving violently about, crashing noises and groans coming from the woods. The Uruk-hai's screams were soon silenced, and the trees ceased movement.

Weary with fatigue and loss but delighted with their victory, the riders turned back to the castle, and the sole thought on Runíla's mind was what a beautiful morning it had turned out to be.

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><p><strong>Sindarin Translations<strong>

_Lle desiel, mellon nîn..._ Are you ready, my friend?

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><p>AN: Well, they survived! But I'm making y'all wait a little longer to find out if Haldir is alright just because I'm evil. And darlings, that's just the start.<p>

So I'm really not all that happy with this chapter, the end felt very forced when I was writing it. But I felt bad because its been almost a week since the last update so here's a little something to keep you guys going.

I did take some creative liberties with Aragorn and Théoden's little chat before they rode out, just because I always thought that was one of Aragorn's first ways of showing his leadership that is what makes him such a great king. I always saw that scene as another way of him coming into his own and making something of his fate.

**_REVIEW PLEASE!_**


	42. Chapter 42

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 42**

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><p>The sun had soaked up most of the rain and the air hung thick and damp with the sickly sweet smell of spring. But the sun could not carry away the blood.<p>

The battlefield did not yet stink of rotting flesh, but Runíla knew it wouldn't be long before the corpses grew putrid under the noonday sun. She did feel a twinge of guilt as she passed the heaps of bodies, but with it came a sense of gratitude. She had been among the few who survived, and while the bite mark on her forearm still throbbed, she was mostly unharmed.

The women and children had been let out of the caves, and a few were allowed to begin scouring the battlefield for loved ones. The bystanders cringed at the wails and gave sad smiles at the few sobs of relief.

"I hate this part." Runíla muttered to Legolas amid the screams of despair.

He nodded, picking up another one of his yellow fletched arrows.

"I've been meaning to give you something." He reached behind him, Runíla looking on, bewildered. She wondered, panicked, if it was custom to exchange gifts with a friend (yes, she had finally admitted to being his friend). She was not aware of this. "Here." He held out one of her arrows. "My company and I were ambushed on our way to Rivendell... it was you, wasn't it?"

Runíla shouldered her bow. "Keep it." She told him. "You shoot more than I do, another arrow in your quiver will help more than it will hurt."

He nodded and slid it back into his quiver, and Runíla admired the way the bright red feathers stood out among the yellow.

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><p>"There you are, lassie!" Gimli's voice boomed from behind her and Legolas. "Lovely morning to be breathing."<p>

"You could say that." She said, clapping him on the shoulder as he approached.

"You've got nary a scratch on you!"

"As do you." Runíla pushed back her sleeve, inspecting her forearm that was smudged with blood. "I earned myself a bite mark, though."

"I saw that fight." Legolas nodded appreciatively. "Rather, bits of it. It was quite impressive."

"I know Gimli couldn't" She grinned at the dwarf, who grumbled something about the fortress's walls being poorly built. "It'll leave quite a scar." She let her sleeve fall.

"What do you mean a scar?" Legolas asked, puzzled. "Elves never have as much as a trace of a wound on them after it has healed."

Runíla shrugged. "It's a choice, I suppose. I've only got a few. I never scarred before until I realized one day that I wanted them, and they appeared. I cannot say I have any idea how. I simply wanted the proof that I had survived battle."

"It is a little known fact that very few elves know the inner workings of elven magic." Legolas said to Gimli. "I count myself among the ignorant."

"I've got calluses as well." She held out her hand, which Gimli and Legolas examined carefully. "The marks of a warrior."

_And I wanted something else that set me apart from them, _She remembered. _From the ones who cast out a helpless mother and her children and slammed the gates behind them_.

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><p>As Gimli wandered off in search of a celebratory ale, Runíla targeted Legolas, trying to shove the memory of what she almost told him out of her mind. There was something she was curious about, something she wanted to ask him.<p>

He stood where the wall was blasted through, leaning against a particularly large chunk of rubble and looking over his arrows for any damages. She leaned next to him, silent for a moment, before she spoke.

"When I jumped from the wall -" She started, but he cut her off.

"Which was, if I may add, an enormously reckless thing to do." His words did not sting her. There was something in his tone that made her think that he was not about to scold her (not that she would stand for it if he did). "It was rash and you did not give as much as a thought to yourself, and I admire you all the more for it."

Runíla watched as he absentmindedly fingered one of his arrows, letting his words sink in.

"Continue." He smiled a bit at her silence.

"Er, well, when I jumped off the wall and the Uruk-hai were charging at me, you helped me." She kept her eyes focused on her scuffed, dirt-caked boots and concentrated on her words. "I recognized your arrows. But when I fought the Uruk one on one, you didn't help me. Why?"

"I was prepared to fire should something go wrong." He assured her. "But I already knew as I drew that arrow that I would not have to fire it at the Uruk. I knew you would not need any help. I trusted you would take care of yourself. And you did."

Of all of Legolas's characteristics, his loyalty was his most guilt-inducing trait. But as Runíla thought harder about it, she was incredibly grateful for her friend's words. Almost everywhere she went she was greeted with sneers, scorn, and sexist slurs as people saw her clothing, her weapons, and witnessed her manner. Very few had the compassion and the civility to respect her not only as a person, but as a warrior. And Runíla was quite glad that Legolas was one of those people.

"Thank you." She said simply, and there was nothing more to be said of it.

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><p>The funeral pyres had begun. The dead were separated into three groups according to race. The elves were piled neatly as they burned, as were many of the men of Rohan. Very few were allowed to take their loved ones for a private burial, as they could not have nearly every citizen in Edoras dragging their relative's corpse behind them on the journey home. The Uruks were tossed half-hazardly in the most bloodied and muddy part of the battlefield. People avoided that area as if the smoke rising from the charred bodies could choke them. The smoke did cover up most of the stench of rotten, mangled flesh.<p>

Aragorn had not been present for most of this, until he finally wandered out of the fortress.

"How is Haldir faring?" Runíla asked.

"Not well." Aragorn replied tiredly. "He has lost so much blood... I do not know what to do. I do not have the means to bring him back to health."

"Has he been responding?"

"Hardly. I can barely make out a few mumbles."

Runíla sighed. "Is he resting now?"

Aragorn nodded. "All I can do is change his bandages and give him something for the pain. The wound runs too deep and too jagged for me to tend to it."

"There's no way we could get him to Lórien for medicine either, but surely we cannot leave him to bleed to death or become infected."

"I know, I have tried to think of every possible option we have, but I can find none. He is far to weak to be moved, let alone travel."

"Gandalf will have some ideas, surely." Runíla spoke certainly.

But she was sorely disappointed by the wizard's response.

"There's nothing I can do." He said helplessly. "Quite frankly, healing magic is not my best form of magic."

"Honestly, what's the worst you could do, light him on fire?" Runíla snapped, frustrated.

"If I could do something I would, you know that." He said roughly.

He was silenced by the exclamations of people now pointing in the distance. Some cried out, believing that the company fast approaching was another wave of Uruk-hai to finish them off, but both Runíla and Legolas saw that they were too few and wore cloth too colorful to be servants of Saruman.

Théoden was alerted, and he stood before the causeway, his armor battered and stained, but for the most part in one piece. He was flanked by Gandalf, Aragorn, Runíla, Legolas, Gimli, Gamling, and Éomer. The people lined the causeway, some clutching to each other nervously. Runíla caught sight of Éowyn, wearied but standing tall not far behind her uncle and brother.

The first thing Runíla observed about the approaching party was their weapons. She expected anyone who did as much as travel nowadays to carry more than a small dagger and a bow, though their lack of weapons eased the tension.

An elf, slender and agile, dismounted from a pale horse, his hair pulled back in intricate braids. Three more elves followed, all dressed in fine embroidered clothing and with the same sharp features as the first.

The first dipped his head respectfully to Théoden, and again after noticing Legolas. "King Théoden. I am Aranel of Lothlórien, and these are my friends, Lenwë, Amras, and Galdor." The three nodded in turn.

"I am afraid you've arrived a bit too late for the battle." Théoden said gruffly.

"We are aware of that, sir." Aranel said. "However, the graciousness of the elves remaining in Middle Earth does not end at sending troops. We are four of the most talented healers of Lothlórien, having been taught by Valandil Lissësúl of Mirkwood, one of the greatest healers of this world." Runíla stiffened. "We were sent to assist with your injured."

Théoden shoulders slumped slightly with relief, speaking wearily, but kindly. "That is truly very kind of him. We certainly do not have the means to care for the wounded we have. The captain of my guard will lead you to the main hall, where we keep the wounded. Anything you might need, consider it yours."

Aranel nodded and gestured to his friends, who unfastened their packs from their horses and followed Aranel and Gamling inside, parting the awed crowd.

And at last, noted Runíla, there was perhaps a shred of hope for Haldir.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry this has taken so long! I was sick, then I had family over, final exams are within a week, I've had recitals and concerts, and not to mention a workload that feels like it should be managed by three people, not by one.<p>

So, yeah. Its been a long couple of weeks.

On the bright side, things are looking up for Haldir! Or are they... ?

For the record, Aranel, Lenwë, Amras, Galdor, and Valandil are all my own creations. What do you think they might mean to the story? I'll tell you one thing guys, you can go ahead and rule out love triangles. Blech.

I've got no idea when the next chapter will be posted. Keep an eye out, though!

PLEASE REVIEW!


	43. Chapter 43

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 43**

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><p>Only the barest rustling of leaves from beneath the horses's feet were heard as the company moved through Fangorn. Runíla, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Éomer, Théoden, Gandalf, and Gamling moved beneath the branches. The forest had transformed from the last time they had passed through it. The branches arched in a welcoming manner, letting light filter through and bring out the bright greens in the leaves and moss. The air seemed lighter and sweeter, like the forest was an old drawer that was aired out. The steady, pleasant hum of life murmured through the roots and the air, and they all rose a little taller as they breathed it in. Their destination, Isengard, was not so fair and lively, so Runíla drank it in while she could.<p>

Legolas and Runíla especially were affected by the sudden change in the forest life. Their senses were almost overpowered. Runíla felt as if she could dip her toes in the deep, underground streams that roots took their water from and brush the leaves of the highest branches all at once. Legolas, too, had difficulty restraining the giddiness that he felt.

Soon, however, their mood was blackened as they left the comfort of the trees. What started out as barely a puddle began to slosh up close to the horses knees, the sharp black spire of Orthanc rising above the brown-grey water. The remains of the machinery produced by the Uruk-hai lay half submerged, most of it completely ruined. Smoke curled above the rubble, and the area was marked by a perfect circle almost completely desolate of life, be it good or evil. But not quite.

As the horses waded closer to the tower, gleeful laughter accompanied the scent of fragrant smoke that was carried by the dry breeze. The company turned a corner and there they were - two curly-haired hobbits perched triumphantly on a chunk of a wall, puffing contentedly on their pipes and looking as if they were back in the Shire in the pub Runíla had heard them speak so fondly of.

"Welcome, my lord," Merry said flamboyantly, standing with a mug of ale clasped in one hand and a pipe in the other. "to Isengard!" He waved towards the tower behind him as Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, and even Runíla and Legolas chuckled with amazement.

"You young rascals!" Huffed Gimli, stuttering with disbelief. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting... and smoking!"

"We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Pippin defended, Merry smirking gloatingly. Runíla was glad to find out that the two of them had the familiar air of mischief about them still. "The salted port is particularly good."

"Salted pork?" Gimli gasped.

"Those little bastards..." Runíla muttered. She was, without a doubt, very glad to see them, and coming across them eating and smoking contentedly was certainly a great deal better than finding them mangled and bloody.

"Oi!" Merry exclaimed indignantly. "Just bastards, thank you very much. After all, by the time we've finished off all the food here, we'll be as wide as Aragorn is tall! Eh, Pip?" The two dissolved into peals of laughter.

Gandalf shook his head fondly. "Hobbits." He muttered.

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management at Isengard." Merry said.

The hobbits were then eased onto horses behind Aragorn and Gandalf, receiving several good natured pats and fond scoldings, their faces bright all the while. Runíla was in the midst of speaking with Pippin about their travels when a creaky, grumbling voice reached her ears.

"Young master Gandalf." It greeted. "I'm glad you've come."

_Young_? Runíla though incredulously as she raised her head. She wondered for a second how she had missed the enormous tree that now stood directly before them until she realized that the breeze was not nearly strong enough to shift the limbs of the tree the way they were moving.

"Wood and water, stock and stone I can master." The voice spoke again. As Runíla looked closer, she noticed amber colored eyes above a crooked nose and a beard of tangled moss, long, knobbly limbs, and toe-like roots at its base. The tree picked up its "foot" (_Is it even a foot_? Runíla wondered) and began to stride forward, leading the company.

"I assume that this is normal for him?" Runíla muttered to Pippin, who nodded knowingly. "Good to know." She sighed and thought nothing more of it.

"But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower." Treebeard sighed, and they stopped at the base of the tower.

"Show yourself." Aragron murmured.

"Be careful. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous." Gandalf urged.

Runíla craned her neck to follow the tower to its spiked peak.

"Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." Gimli growled.

Runíla couldn't help but agree. He had been far to much trouble already, and they might as well kill him before he managed to become more of a complication.

"No." Gandalf insisted, turning his eyes to the peak of the tower. "We need him alive. We need him to talk."

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards." Saruman's rippling voice carried from the top of the tower where he appeared, leering down and leaning heavily on his staff. "Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Théoden lowered his gaze, and for a few moments Runíla was worried about the words that would come out of his mouth. "We shall have peace." He said quietly. "We shall have peace," He said again, his voice raising as he glared at Saruman. "when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged!" His voice dropped, but the disgust in his tone was no less. "When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, _we shall have peace_!"

"Gibbets and crows?" He scoffed. "Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame. Let me guess. The key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

"Your treachery has cost many lives. Thousands more are at risk. You can _save _them, Saruman." Gandalf pressed. "You were deep in the enemy's counsel."

"So you have come here for information." His voice grew chilling. "I have some for you." He lifted up a seeing stone, black but with a fiery core. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." He lowered the Palantír. "Even now, he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die." Saruman said, pleased, as Gandalf urged Shadowfax forward.

"But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor! This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king." Runíla glanced at a bitter Aragorn, but soon jerked her head back up. "And I should have known you would recruit this so-called legend on your little quest." Runíla fumed, scowling up at him. "This "_hero_" is nothing but the product of crime, impulsivity, and a dead family!"

"One more word, Saruman!" She threatened, casting an anxious look towards Legolas, who glanced at her curiously.

"Ah." Saruman caught on and smiled. "He, of all people, does not know... that is _very _interesting. Though I suppose it hardly matters. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those whom he professes to _love_." He spat out the word mockingly. "Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom?" Runíla tensed more. "The path you have sent him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough!" Gimli fumed. "Shoot him." He whispered to Legolas. "Stick an arrow in his gob."

Legolas reached back for an arrow, but was stopped by Gandalf.

"No. Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Save your pity and your mercy!" Cried Saruman. "I have no use for it!"

His staff was thrust forward, and a wave of heat washed over them. They shielded their faces, the horses backing up as an enormous fireball encased Gandalf. Runíla quickly drew her bow, but was not sure where to aim. He was hidden for a few moments before the fire died down, revealing the remnants of a magical blue-white shield.

"Saruman," He said, "your staff is broken."

With a burst of light, Saruman's staff shattered into several smoking pieces that clattered onto the stone at his feet. He cried out in anguish, his hands shaking as if he had suddenly aged many years in a split second. A familiar, slimy figure appeared behind him, hunched in black robes that contrasted with his pale skin.

"Grima, you need not follow him." Théoden reasoned. "You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

"A man of Rohan?" Sneered Saruman. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Thédoen only looked fazed for a moment. "Grima, come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman thundered. "He will never be _free_."

"No." Grima's voice was so soft Runíla barely heard it.

"Get down, cur!" Saruman spat, sending Grima falling to the floor with a sharp slap.

"Saruman!" Gandalf intervened. "You are deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here."

Grima suddenly rose behind him, arm raised to strike. Both Runíla and Legolas fired at the same time, Legolas's arrow piercing his heart and Runíla his throat. He gurgled as he fell, but his knife was already impaled in Saruman's back. With an exhale, Saruman plummeted off the tower, spiraling down. Runíla watched and felt a sick sort of satisfaction with the sound that was made by his body landing on a spike of a wheel, skewering him through the chest. The hobbits gasped in horror, Merry covering his mouth with his hand.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free." Gandalf said to Théoden, unfazed. "The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

The weight of Saruman's body pushed the creaky wheel in motion. They stood and watched as his body inched downwards and into the water until nothing but the laces of his boots could be seen. The Palantír slipped from his sleeve, splashing into the water.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away." Treebeard hummed. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees. Wild trees."

Pippin leapt from behind Aragorn's horse, splashing through the water that reached up to his waist. He reached down and lifted up the Palantír, turning it over carefully in his hands.

"Pippin!" Aragorn called.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard exclaimed.

Gandalf hurried forward. "Peregrin Took! I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now."

He almost yanked it from Pippin's hands, wrapping it carefully in his robes and giving him a hurried smile.

* * *

><p>They turned back the way they came, and soon the combination of finally seeing Saruman fall to his unpleasant death and the forest's ambience quickly improved Runíla's mood, all thoughts of Saruman's words chased back into the farthest corners of her mind. The hobbits cracked jokes and sang drinking songs in an attempt to improve the mood of the others (all while lamenting the loss of the wonderful salted pork the had indulged in earlier) Runíla rode just in front of Legolas and Gimli, and their conversation was carried easily to her ears.<p>

"What on earth is there to do in a bloddy forest?" She heard Gimli, who rode on Arod behind Legolas, grumble. "No, laddie, I say that when we finish this we go to the Glittering Caves." He sighed dreamily. "You will never again doubt the beauty that lies below the earth."

"Alright..." Legolas said, to Gimli's great pleasure. "But only if we stop in Fangorn as well. You'd be surprised at the beauty that lies above the earth; streams that weave around the roots of trees that are far older than you and I -"

Gimli cut him off. "Fine, then. Just please don't go on about forests _again. _Last time it took you an hour to stop talking about Mirkwood before the spiders."

"And what do you say, Runíla?" Legolas called ahead. "Care to join us?"

She twisted back in the saddle to face them and was met with his animated grin. His infectious enthusiasm combined with the buzz of energy from the forest was so much that she smiled back as she answered.

"I suppose you'll need someone to keep you from going in circles."

"Excellent." Legolas said triumphantly.

She turned back in her saddle as she heard Gimli say, "Just do everyone a favor, laddie. Never turn to poetry."

Legolas laughed. He clearly had a low tolerance for the dizzying energy that came from Fangorn as he wore a wide, almost stupid grin throughout the beginning of the journey before he could manage to control his emotions.

She allowed herself to wonder for a moment what life would be like, just her and Legolas, maybe Gimli, traveling Middle-Earth. They could go anywhere, anytime, on the slightest whim. _That_, she realized, _would be true freedom_. _If Sauron is defeated, and evil at last vanquished forever-_ She stopped herself, repeating those few words. _Evil at last vanquished forever_... Her mouth suddenly felt very dry, her head yanked down from the clouds. How could she have passed over those words so casually before? Runíla's life was spent chasing wickedness across the earth, beating evil back into its cage. _If evil is destroyed once and for all_, she thought woodenly, _then I will have nothing left to live for._

* * *

><p>AN: Hey. We're on the last leg now! RotK! Gosh this is weird.<p>

So.

_**SMAUG TRAILER?!**_

I'm dead. It was so amazing. Gosh, I'm so proud of everyone. I won't waste your time gushing, though, because I could go on for _ages_. What did you guys think?

Ahem, FYI, THIS IS AN IMPORTANT REVELATION for Runíla. The concept of evil being defeated forever is an unsettling thing. Keep that in mind.

And don't worry, those new elves will certainly be showing up again soon. _DUN **DUN**_ **_DUN._**

And thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has reviewed, followed, favorited, or even just read. You're support is appreciated more than you know :)

PLEASE give me all of your thoughts! Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, any predictions you have, etc. I'm very curious :)


	44. Chapter 44

**A Flash of Red **

**Chapter 44**

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><p>"You promised." Éowyn stood firm, her arms crossed.<p>

Runíla sighed, latching the stable door and brushing a bit of hay off of her pants. "I did."

"Excellent." Éowyn smiled. "When do we start?"

"Find two thick pieces of cloth and meet me behind the kitchens." Runíla said, slinging her sword sheaths onto her back. "We shouldn't be able to be seen from there. Be there as soon as you can. If it's convenient for you, that is." She said sarcastically.

She half expected a witty remark from Éowyn, but she dashed out of the stable, the door banging closed behind her. Runíla shrugged and followed her.

Aragorn and Legolas stood before the gates, her figure disappearing soon.

"I heard what you said." Aragorn told him. "That she could travel with you after the war is over."

"And?"

"You were telling the truth?"

Legolas turned to face him, taken aback. "You think I would lie?"

"No, I would think you would know her."

"What do you mean?" Legolas said, unnerved.

"Runíla doesn't stay for anyone." Aragorn said. "What makes you believe she will stay for you?"

"She will." He said firmly.

* * *

><p>Éowyn was pacing when Runíla arrived, a thick line already marked in the earth.<p>

"Where have you been?" Éowyn demanded.

"If all you are going to do is be rude when I'm trying to help you, I can leave." Runíla said lightly. Éowyn slumped a little. "Wonderful." She unsheathed her swords and lay them on the ground. "The cloth?"

Éowyn handed her a roll of thick, scratchy fabric. Runíla tore it in half, securing them around the sword blades with pieces of twine from her pocket. She stood, tossing a sword to Éowyn, who barely caught it on time.

"Reflexes need work." Runíla muttered.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing."

"What is the cloth for?"

"Take a swing at me."

Éowyn complied immediately, feigning left and striking right. Runíla blocked it, the cloth causing the blades to clash with a muffled _thump_. She swung her sword around, letting it gently nudge into Éowyn's side.

"To answer your question, they're to silence the blades and help us to not end up killing each other, accidentally or on purpose." Runíla answered. "You're stance seems solid enough, but your reflexes are slow. I'll swing at you, and just for now, try to block my strikes."

Éowyn managed better than Runíla expected she would. She did not tire easily and moved well, but she tended to take reckless moves that she wasn't able to preform, and her sword ended up on the ground at least a dozen times. After a half an hour, Runíla stopped her.

"You're far too ambitious." She told Éowyn, lowering her sword and moving a bit closer. "Work on simple strikes first, then I'll show you more difficult tricks. Trust me. Chances are if you try to skip a rung on the ladder, you will fall and it will hurt."

Éowyn raised her sword again begrudgingly, masking the resentful look that she so wished to send towards Runíla. She lunged forward and aimed a direct strike towards Runíla's ribcage, only for it to be blocked by a flick of her wrist. The same happened when Éowyn targeted her side, and she was just about ready to toss her sword down into the dirt.

"Better. Now, add in some of the feigns you were doing earlier and move around more. You have space and you might as well use it. Try to sneak behind me and catch me off guard before I can predict your next move."

Éowyn nodded, panting, and wiped hair out of her face, glad she was finally allowed to move a bit more.

_She has promise_. Runíla thought as she dodged to the side. _This will certainly_ _be interesting._

* * *

><p>At an hour before sunset, Runíla and Éowyn parted ways. There was to be a celebratory feast that evening and Runíla figured that although she was hardly going to be dressed appropriately, the effort at least may be appreciated. She owed that to the men who had given their lives at Helm's Deep. Once in the room she was given she shed the chain mail, leather vest and armor, and arm guards that she wore. Luckily they had protected her tunic from bloodstains, though there was one spot on her sleeve that would not come off no matter how hard she scrubbed at it. Eventually she gave up and combed through her hair. She added a small plait in the front and braided the rest. Her boots, she knew, where hopeless, as there was too much grime that had worked its way into the fabric for her to clean.<p>

Runíla figured that it would be disrespectful to carry any weapons on her, so she removed her knives, swords, bow, and arrow and placed them on her bed. The room was so small (which was hardly a problem anyways, as her weapons were really the only belongings that she had) that there wasn't anywhere to put them. The bed was in plain sight, which she didn't want to risk if some drunken fool decided to wander into her room in the middle of the festivities. So, she opened up the dresser in the corner and placed them carefully beside the satin dresses they assumed she would wear. Closing the door, she left the room and wandered into the main hall.

It was already swarming with people, mostly men who held mugs of ale in their hands and wore smiles above their bearded lips. There was food and drink aplenty, most people in the hall eyeing them hungrily. Runíla took a seat beside Legolas and Gimli on the bench, craning her neck to see Théoden, Éowyn, and Éomer standing at the front of the hall.

"Where were you today?" Legolas asked.

"Around." She shrugged. "I always forget how awfully boring it is when we're not fighting."

"It wouldn't be boring if you didn't make it boring." He smiled at her.

"Now you sound like Elrond." She scoffed.

"Well, hopefully tonight won't be as dull." He said. "I hear that Merry and Pippin promised a song."

"I'd like to see them try, considering they won't be able to see straight after an hour."

"And what about you, lassie?" Gimli asked. "Do you plan to get blindingly drunk this evening? Because I do!" He chortled.

"No, I rarely drink." She answered.

"But that's like rarely breathing!" Gimli said, aghast. Runíla and Legolas laughed. "Why on earth would you do that?"

"I dislike the idea of not having control over my actions." She shrugged.

"But lassie, _that's the best part_!" Gimli cried. He turned to Legolas. "Can you believe her?"

Legolas chuckled, but didn't answer.

At the front of the room, Théoden rose, cup in hand, the others imitating him.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country." He said somberly. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"_Hail_!" The crowd called and they all took their first sips before the room dissolved into chatter and raucous laughter.

Legolas was dragged away by Gimli (who, unsurprisingly, had already downed his first pint) and Runíla made her way over to Aragorn. HE sipped his mug quietly, leaning against a beam.

"What news of Haldir?" She asked.

He downed his drink before answering. "He is in stable condition, last I heard. The elves say he's still to weak to be moved, so they care for him and a few others at Helm's Deep."

She nodded. "But he's expected to survive?"

Aragorn nodded, waving for another ale which was soon placed in his hand. "You may want to go find Legolas." He said. "Gimli is probably forcing him into something he doesn't want to do right about now."

Sure enough Runíla found the two of them at a table nearby, both surrounded by empty glasses. Gimli chugged mug after mug, slupring it up eagerly, while Legolas downed them poised and casual.

"Honestly, how many have you had already?" She asked incredulously.

"Twelve." Legolas said quickly as he lifted a fresh mug to his lips.

"Enjoy dragging yourself back to your room tonight." She sighed, leaning against a pillar and watching them. "Well, Gimli, at least."

Legolas shot her a warning look, but luckily Gimli didn't hear. She supposed that Legolas casually forgot to inform him that elves have an unusually high tolerance for alcohol. They shared a smirk as Legolas slammed down his mug and reached for another.

"You look awful stiff in that, laddie." Gimli hiccuped, his words beginning to slur together. "Are you sure you can keep up in that dress?" He gestured to Legolas's silvery, high-collared tunic.

"Play nice, Gimli." Runíla warned. "He's held his own this far." She winked quickly at Legolas.

"Not for long!" He cried drunkenly as he called for another mug. "Here, here! It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women." He cackled, bobbing in his seat and finishing his sentence off with a strong belch.

"That's disgusting." Runíla told him pointedly. Gimli simply waved a careless hand in her direction as he began to go cross-eyed.

"I feel something..." Legolas said, gently brushing the pads of his fingers. "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me." He returned her wink.

"What did I say?" Gimli slurred, waving a finger in the air. "He can't hold his liquor..."

He slipped off of the bench and began to snore. Runíla bent down to prod him.

"Game over." Legolas said wryly. He raised his mug in Runíla's direction before raising it to his lips.

The two of them milled about for the next few hours, talking and laughing and often finding themselves entertained by Merry and Pippin as they sang, drank, and leapt across tables for the amusement of the men.

"I will bet you... the best slice of bread tomorrow morning that Merry is going to fall sometime during the next three songs." Legolas grinned.

"Absolutely not." She shook her head. "Hobbits know how to hold their alcohol. I say he lasts at least another five songs."

Merry was looking fairly tipsy, stumbling a few times and forgetting a lyric of two here and there. But Runíla had heard of their drinking antics, and believed he was more resistant than he appeared. The two watched him carefully as he made it through the first song, Aragorn coming to stand beside them halfway through the second. Legolas watched him eagerly as they began the third song. The last line was finished and Runíla couldn't help but grin triumphantly until, on the very last note, Merry, with his arms spread wide, toppled over and onto the floor.

Runíla's mouth was wide with shock while Legolas exploded into laughter, clapping for the hobbits. Pippin hopped shakily off the table and proceeded to drag his cousin onto a bench where he also fell asleep, his head lolled back as he snored. Legolas's shoulders trembled and Runíla soon found herself laughing alongside him. Aragorn stared at them, taking note of the lines that appeared around Legolas's mouth and the slight dimple in Runíla's chin, neither of which he had ever seen before. It was a bit like seeing a beardless dwarf or a straight haired hobbit.

After their laughter died down a bit, Runíla noticed Aragorn beside them.

"What are you staring at?" She asked.

"Nothing." He smiled a bit, finally understanding. He had never seen either of them laugh that hard.

Runíla shrugged. Aragorn clapped her on the shoulder before leaving the hall.

"I think I'll turn in as well." She said.

He nodded. "You don't suppose we should take care of them, should we?" He asked, pointing to Merry and Pippin.

"Oh, they're fine." She grinned. "I doubt they'll be waking up anytime soon."

"I suppose you're right."

They slowly made their way over to the doors, only passing a few people drinking quietly in the corners. Runíla, surprisingly, was drained but contented from the night. They parted ways at the doors with smiles.

As she watched him walk away Runíla decided something. He didn't deserve to be led on by her. She would tell him. They had grown close enough now that he would hear her out, she convinced herself. He would see her side and everything would be just as blissful as it was then. Because, she realized, she may not have had many friends in her life, but she knew that the ache in her stomach left over from laughter didn't feel like any type of friendship she had felt before.

* * *

><p>AN: How's it going?<p>

Here's something I'd like to address: I understand that some of you believe that this story is moving a little slowly, and I completely understand why you would think that. However, I'd like to say that I intend, and have intended since day one, for this story to not be a story totally focused on romance, but rather on the inner struggles of someone who is facing change and beginning to doubt their beliefs, along with their relationships between various characters, and a few other themes. Also, I am keeping things moving slowly because I believe that it is a way for readers to learn a great deal more about the characters and how they approach certain things such as romance and friendship. It's funny that someone asked it now, of all times. I already had the last part partially written out when someone said that.

FYI, I'm going on vacation in a week to a place that has no Wifi, no computers (I'm a but surprised that they even have toilets that flush), no _nothing_ so I won't be able to update then. I'll be there for two weeks, so just don't think that I've forgotten about you guys.

That is all.

**REVIEW PLEASE AND THANK YOU**


	45. Chapter 45

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 45**

* * *

><p>Runíla only rested for a few hours that night for in the first hours of the morning there was a quiet knock at her door. Runíla had one hand on the hilt of one of her knives and she moved soundlessly to open it. Éowyn stood there wrapped in a thick cloak, a bit bleary-eyed, but adamant.<p>

Runíla sighed. "Now?"

Éowyn nodded. "I do not know when we will have time in the coming days."

"Just give me a moment."

Runíla sheathed her swords onto her back and tugged on her boots, shutting the door behind her.

"The front door is too risky." Éowyn whispered. "This way."

They slipped through the shadowy kitchens and out the back door into the same hidden corner where they had practiced the day before. An idle wind slipped by, just cool enough to raise a chill on Éowyn's arms. Runíla tied the cloth around two swords and tossed Éowyn a sword, which she almost missed in the low light. It was still far too early for the sun to be close to rising but the moon and stars gave them just enough light to see by.

"Let's just spar first." Runíla said quietly, though there was no one around for her to disturb. "Remember what I told you yesterday. Movement is key, be observant."

Éowyn already seemed more familiar with the sword that she had the day previous, handling it with more confidence and ease. Her footwork had certainly improved; she made good use of the space, turning and trying to get around Runíla.

"Much better." She said after they stopped. "Put the sword aside. I want you to dodge my strikes. Often times you block with the sword too much and can't prepare for your swing, so make an effort to use your body."

"And if you hit me?" Éowyn asked.

"I have just enough confidence in you that I do not think that will happen. That's what the cloth is for, anyways. Plus I have decent enough reflexes and should be able to stop before I put my sword through your stomach."

"Charming." Éowyn muttered.

Runíla swung at Éowyn with no warning, aiming for her side. She stopped the blade just as it was about to connect with her ribcage, pressing the sword there for a moment.

"Be prepared." She barked.

Éowyn nodded, bobbing slightly on the balls of her feet. She ducked Runíla's first swing, but quickly rose as Runíla swung back, once again stopping her blade as it was about to slice into Éowyn's head.

"No." Runíla sighed. "Do you have the ability to look into other's minds?"

"No." Éowyn answered, bemused.

"Then it is very difficult, if not impossible, for you to predict your enemy's next move. Quick reflexes are imperative here. You must remain where you are until you see them begin to move. Correct?"

"Yes."

"Good. Again."

Over the course of their practices Éowyn and Runíla had developed a unique relationship. They both had developed a mutual respect for each other; reluctant, but mutual. Éowyn often grew tired of Runíla badgering her, but that weariness also came with a begrudging envy. She was, in a sense, almost exactly what Éowyn wanted to be like - willful, talented, respected, and independent, with her head held high. Éowyn was eager to learn, much like Runíla was back in the days when she didn't know which end of a bow was up. So, they may not have always agreed, but they always treated each other with deference.

The sky had just begun to lighten when they returned inside. People had not yet begun to stir, though a faint blue light now filtered through the slivers of the windows.

"You know not to speak to anyone of this, correct?" Éowyn whispered.

"Do I seem that untrustworthy to you?"

"No... but you are close to your friends, and they cannot know." She hesitated. "Even Lord Aragorn."

"What is it with him for you?" Runíla asked.

"Nothing." Éowyn said quickly. "He is an honorable man, a strong man, and I admire him for that."

Runíla halted. "You're lying." She accused, noting the way Éowyn directed her eyes downwards and slumped a bit. "What is it? Do you hate him?" She avoided what she believed the real answer to be.

"Quite the contrary." Éowyn said softly.

There was silence as Runíla processed her words, then she sighed. "_Pe-channas_. Valar, help us." She muttered. _What would Arwen think?_ She wondered.

"What?"

"Nothing. This simply a plot to attract his attention, I assume?" She said harshly.

"No." Éowyn said insistently. "You may think that I am shallow, but I promise you, that is not my reason."

"Then please, share."

"I am not deaf. I hear the men's talk. The Battle of Helm's Deep was going to be the last great stand of the kingdom of Rohan. Now that Saruman is defeated, the next blow will come from Sauron. Isengard, Mordor; wooden swords, metal. It will be the last great stand of the race of Men. And I'll be damned if there isn't a woman there to see the end of it." She said firmly.

Runíla smiled proudly. She did not know if it had been she who had installed a bit of this new fire in Éowyn, but she liked to think that she was a part of it. "Careful, there. Don't let the men hear you curse. Otherwise they will be to scared to ever meet your eyes."

The two parted silently, each faint footstep magnified by the eerie silence. Runíla slunk into her room and tried to catch a few hours rest before sunrise. She was in a pleasant state of numbness when she shot up, grabbing for her swords. A chilling, creeping sensation weaved through her mind, poking through her thoughts, and it felt as if it was both freezing and burning her temples all at once. Gritting her teeth, she threw open the door.

_The Eye was here._

She bolted in the direction of shouts, passing through the main hall and bursting into the side room. Pippin lay unresponsive in a corner, Aragorn collapsing to the floor as he clutched the Palantír, flames licking the surface greedily. Legolas held him upright as he writhed, nearing unconsciousness. Runíla leapt over makeshift beds and knelt by his side, tearing a piece of cloth from one of her swords and covering the Palantír. Legolas caught Aragorn as he slumped over. Runíla held onto the sphere, but the sensation in her head was increasing along with the heat searing through the cloth. It jolted and caused her to convulse violently. Gandalf shot up and tossed his cloak over it, and the feeling in her head faded as quickly as water dousing a flame.

Merry cried out his cousin's name and rushed to him, only to be swept aside by Gandalf.

Runíla sat up on one knee and pushed stray hairs out of her face. Legolas extended a hand to her and she stood up, rubbing the back of her neck as if to wipe something off.

Pippin was locked in place with his eyes open, dazed as he stared up at the ceiling. He looked far too still for Runíla's liking as Gandalf revived him. His chest began to heave in panic, his eyes opened and darting everywhere.

"Look at me." Gandalf said firmly.

Pippin recoiled in shame. "Gandalf, forgive me." He moaned.

"Look at me." Gandalf insisted again. "What did you see?" He held Pippin's head so that he would not shy away.

"A tree." Pippin gasped, his eyes squeezed shut. "A white tree. In a courtyard of stone. It was dead." He sounded horrified. "The city was burning."

_The White Tree of Gondor_. Runíla glanced at Aragorn. He straightened up at the mention of the tree, but showed no other reaction.

"Minas Tirith. Is that what you saw?"

"I saw..." Pippin's breath began to shake. "I saw him! I can hear his voice in my head."

Runíla's eyes quickly searched the room apprehensively.

"And what did you tell him?" Gandalf asked. "Speak!" He barked.

"He asked me my name. I didn't answer. He hurt me."

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?"

"Not a word." Pippin gasped.

Gandalf rose. "We need to speak to the king. Merry, find Pippin something to eat. He should feel better after that." He gestured to a guard who had been startled awake by the noise. "You, there. Wake the king. Tell him that it is of the utmost importance."

* * *

><p>AN: Hello again... This is way later than I expected. I was surprisingly busy over the past week or two and also (thanks to the incompetence of my housemate) my laptop broke. I also wound up taking an impromptu job the past few weeks that (thank GOD) is over now.<p>

Hopefully updates will be coming more quickly over the next few days, now that I'm out of work and my laptop will be getting fixed soon as well.

I originally wanted this chapter to be a lot longer but I felt bad that its been a month since my last update...

This chapter is dedicated specially to **Elves are awesome**. Keep on, ya know, being awesome.

Review please!


	46. Chapter 46

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 46**

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><p>Théoden marched into the main hall, his clothes rumpled in haste. "Pray, tell me what requires a gathering at this godforsaken hour?" He said.<p>

Gandalf explained quickly, telling him of the Palantír and Pippin's mistake. Théoden listened with enervated patience, his mouth drawn thin. He clearly did not anticipate having to deal with another conflict so soon after the battle, when his people were still recovering from the losses they had sustained. None of them had. But it seemed Sauron would waste no time even after the death of his ally, continuing plowing his path across Middle Earth and razing everything in his way.

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes. A fool, but an honest fool he remains." Gandalf glanced at Pippin, who averted his eyes. After a bit of rest and some food the color had returned to his cheeks, although Runíla couldn't tell if it was from the food or flush simply from shame. "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring. We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the Palantír a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing: he knows the heir of Elendil has come forth." Gandalf looked to Aragorn. "Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him." Aragorn's chin jutted forward proudly. "Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner." Gandalf turned his gaze towards Théoden imploringly. "He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a king return to the throne of Men. If the Beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

Théoden raised his head calmly as if they were discussing the weather over tea rather than the fate of Men. "Tell me," He said. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?"

"At the end of the day there is no time for discussing who owes who and whatnot." Runíla cut in scathingly. "Tossing debts aside you must focus on who your allies are. If Gondor falls, Rohan will be next, and Saruman will be considered merciful next to Sauron. Gondor must know of this attack."

"I will go." Aragorn said quietly.

"No!" Gandalf cut in.

"They must be warned!" Aragorn's voice rose.

For a moment Runíla considered volunteering herself to go, but she snuck a quick look at Legolas and changed her mind. For once, she decided, she would be selfish. It was horrible timing for such ideas, but she reasoned that after over two centuries of doing everything in her power to protect the free people of Middle Earth she could be allowed this one thing. She would stay with him.

"They will be." Gandalf said. Runíla raised her eyebrows at him, wondering what ridiculous yet ingenious plan he had in store. He crossed to Aragorn's side and spoke quietly. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river. Look to the black ships."

Runíla repressed a sigh. Gandalf's motives would reveal themselves in due course; she knew that. But during war the world moves far too fast for patience, even for an elf.

"Understand this:" Gandalf turned to face them all. "Things are now in motion than cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith." He spun suddenly to look down at Pippin. "And I won't be going alone."

"What?!" Pippin finally managed to speak up.

"I would tell you to pack your things, Peregrin Took, but it seems you do not have much." Gandalf said briskly. "Perhaps that is for the better. We will need to move swiftly if our task is to be done. Come along, then."

And with that he swept out of the hall followed by Aragorn leaving Merry and Pippin to scramble after them.

"Why me, Gandalf?" Pippin called despairingly. "What can I do?"

"Why you, Peregrin Took? There are many reasons for that. Take it as a lesson. Of all the inquisitive hobbits, you are the worst." He seemed to think that answer was sufficient. "Hurry, hurry!"

Shadowfax's stall was a place of honor at the end of the stable. Aragorn stood back a ways to give Merry and Pippin some privacy. Gandalf heaved Pippin up onto the horse. The poor hobbit would have been terrified of the beast even if it had a saddle. Hobbits were not cut out to ride horses, let alone ride them bareback and bridle less.

"How far is Minas Tirith?" He asked.

"Three days ride as the Nazgul flies." Gandalf answered. "And you'd better hope we don't have one of those on our tail." He turned to their packs.

"Here." Merry stepped forward handing Pippin a leather bound package. "Something for the road."

"The last of the Longbottom Leaf." Pippin was floored. He looked down at Merry, who's curly head did not even reach the top of Shadowfax's leg.

"I know you've run out. You smoke too much, Pip." Merry said wistfully.

"But we'll see each other soon." Merry and Gandalf exchanged uncertain looks. "Won't we?" Pippin looked to Merry for comfort, not afraid to led his panic show.

"I don't know." Merry choked. His eyes shone wetly and his mouth quivered. Gandalf swung himself up behind Pippin. "I don't know what's going to happen." He backed up.

"Merry?!"

"Run, Shadowfax." said Gandalf. "Show us the meaning of haste."

Pippin cried out his cousin's name once more as Shadowfax sprang forward. Pippin seemed so tiny astride the beast, lost to sight before the rest as Shadowfax hurtled out of the stable and across the plains. Merry hardly wasted a moment before he sprinted after them, Aragorn on his heels.

Runíla, Legolas, and Gimli watched it all unfold from the front of the Golden Hall.

"Poor sod." Gimli sighed. "Gandalf will keep a sharp eye on him, I'm sure."

"I hardly think he'll have to." Runíla said. "After this I cannot imagine Pippin ever wanting to put as much as a toe out of line."

"Point taken." Gimli turned to head back indoors. "D'you reckon I could find a pint anywhere 'round here?"

"Gimli, the sun has barely risen." Legolas said incredulously.

"You're right, laddie." He sighed. "Then perhaps a bit of bacon, as well."

"I would have thought he would have had a smashing headache this morning." Runíla said, shaking her head in amazement as he wandered indoors.

"I'd be shocked if he was not hiding it... he's probably looking for more alcohol to take it away."

She scoffed and they fell silent. The thought occurred to Runíla then, accompanied by a tightness in her gut and a suddenly dry mouth. For the first time in a while they were not surrounded by Aragorn or Gimli or any large amount of soldiers of Rohan. It was her chance. Her throat tightened and she wet her lips. _Pull yourself together_. She thought. _He will understand. __Just say it. You jumped off of a fortress wall and into an army of Uruk-hai. If you cannot do this you are a coward._ Although she had not the slightest idea of what words were about to tumble out of her mouth, she prepared to speak. _  
><em>

"Riders!" A guard called, running up the steps. "Three riders approach!"

Runíla stood with her mouth open, dumbstruck. "Of _all_ times!" She said under her breath, following Legolas into the hall. "Valar, help me. My luck has vanished."

A group of guards assembled before the doors and several more inside. Théoden took a seat in his throne as Aragorn and Merry entered, standing beside Legolas and Runíla.

"Riders, my lord?" Aragorn asked.

"Not from Gondor." Théoden answered, casting him a bitter glance. "They ride from the northwest. Send them in when they arrive, Gamling."

The guard nodded and returned to his station outside.

It seemed as if the riders must have been traveling with remarkable haste as they arrived within minutes. They strode into the hall without giving the guard a second glance.

"Aranel, Lenwë, Amras." Théoden greeted the elven healers with a bow of his head. Runíla glared at them sourly. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"What news of Haldir?" Aragorn asked quickly.

"He is recovering well." Aranel said cooly. "But that is not why we are here." He scanned the hall until his eyes landed on Runíla. "We come to collect a prisoner."

"I can assure you that there is no criminal in this city that you would wish to prosecute." Théoden spoke diplomatically, but his brow furrowed with confusion.

The other two elves stepped forward. "When Haldir of Lórien finally regained consciousness he informed us of someone here who was identified by one of his soldiers. We came ourselves, for this needs the most practiced hands. My lord, if you do not object we should like to detain the criminal."

"You have my permission." Théoden nodded.

"Who do you think it could be?" Runíla whispered. "A guard, perhaps?"

"I do not believe anyone in this room would turn against Théoden." He replied, and they both scanned the room for any suspicious faces. "But I cannot speak for each one of them."

Aranel nodded to his accomplices. Without warning they sprung forward and yanked Runíla by the arms, holding her fists behind her back. Her growl of fury died as she realized what they were there for. It was replaced by a cold, black feeling of dread that settled deep in her gut.

Legolas reached for one of their arms wildly.

"Leave them be, your highness." Aranel told him.

"She is the last person in this room who would commit a crime worthy of this!" He protested.

"That is what you would say."

Aragorn pulled him back, Legolas staring at Aranel in confusion.

Aranel turned to Runíla. "For lying to and endangering the Prince of Mirkwood we take you into our custody to return you to those with the authority to punish you as they see fit. Make any movement to harm anyone and we will not hesitate to resort to violence." He said flatly. "Do you understand?... _exile._"

Runíla lunged at him only to be wrenched back. She was a bear with her leg caught in the vice of a trap, and she knew it. Twisting her body she tried to look back at her friends.

"Excellent." Aranel bowed to Théoden. "Thank you, my lord. We shall be on our way now."

Aragorn's mouth was tight with anger but he kept a firm hand on Legolas's shoulder. She looked to Legolas then, wondering how she could portray through a glance how very sorry she was. He showed no extreme emotion, but he looked at her sadly and with a bit of confusion. _He is disappointed_. She thought.

Lenwë and Amras began to pull her out of the hall after Aranel, and she immediately began to thrash like a pig being led to the slaughterhouse. They stepped around her carefully, just out of reach of her legs. Snatches of words, frantic in her protest, escaped her mouth.

"No, Legolas, I never -" Lenwë pressed a hand to her mouth to silence her. She sunk her teeth into it and he recoiled. This was her last chance to "_I never meant to hurt you_! It was not my fault! Aragorn," Aranel threw open the doors, striding out into the fresh air. "Aragorn, explain to him, you can't, I never wanted this -" Her words were silenced by a grunt as she was struck in the stomach.

Amras and Lenwë dragged her out. Aranel looked down upon her with repugnance.

"Some hero you turned out to be. Remove her weapons."

The doors were thrown shut, cutting Runíla off from the eyes that had watched her, unmoving. Amras released her for a moment, reaching for her swords, and she sprung forward. Her fist swung at his head, knocking him sideways, and she turned to ram her foot into Lenwë's head. Aranel reached for his sword but she threw herself at him and they tumbled down the stairs. She pinned him down and aimed a punch at his jaw which sent his head flying back, and she was free. A small crowd had gathered and they fled fearfully as she tore by.

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><p>Inside, Legolas shook off Aragorn's hand and started towards the door.<p>

"You cannot go. They will stop you no matter your title." Aragorn said imploringly. "She is out of our reach now."

"There is more to this, is there not?" He demanded. "She told you to tell me something. I will not let them drag her into prison, not when there are things that I do not know."

He pushed open the doors to see the three elves with their weapons drawn and ready, rushing towards the stable. He drew his bow and followed.

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><p>The stable boy scrambled away as Runíla darted in. Gelion was munching relaxedly on hay in his stall until she threw open the door and heaved herself up without saddle or bridle. She pushed him into a gallop as the three elves, flustered and furious, appeared at the entrance. They scattered like hens at the sight of a hawk and she flew past them. They would soon be after her, she knew, and she coaxed more speed out of Gelion as they left the gates of Edoras. She risked a glance backwards and she saw no one.<p>

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><p>Legolas reached the stables as the three elves emerged on horseback, one with a bow in hand and two others with swords. Legolas fitted an arrow into his bow, aiming it for the very center of Aranel's forehead. They reined back their horses but did not raise their weapons against him.<p>

"If you make any attempt at pursuit I will fire. Do you understand?" He said scathingly.

He was prepared to shoot, though not for the head. Perhaps the leg or the shoulder, just enough to prevent them from moving.

"She intended to make an attack on your life." Aranel said, taken aback.

"You cannot convince me of any of her intentions." Legolas said firmly. "I will believe nothing until I hear it from someone who knows. Put your horses back. You will remain here until she is far out of your reach."

_Until she is far out of anyone's reach_. He thought.

Aragorn stepped forward and lead Legolas down the slopes of Edoras where not a soul could be seen. Legolas looked out across the plains of Rohan, but she was already gone.

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><p>AN: Thank you for the reviews.<p> 


	47. Chapter 47

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 47**

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><p>Of the many nights in her life Runíla had spent alone there were very few that were truly lonely. The first night after she left, however, was the loneliest.<p>

She headed southeast, riding parallel to the White Mountains. Late into the night she noticed Gelion's labored breathing and stopped. Gelion was glad to be given rest, immediately lowering his head to the grass. He was left free; she knew he would go nowhere. There was no form of shelter so Runíla sat atop a crag of rock, giving her a wide view of the landscape. The wind nipped at her eagerly. Her cloak from Lórien seemed useless against it.

She never expected to be betrayed by Haldir. He was simply more proof of something that she had already learned a dozen times over - no matter your bond with someone, the word "exile" suddenly makes you someone people would not even consider worthy of licking their boots clean. She did not keep it a secret solely out of shame.

It must have been one of Haldir's soldiers at Helm's Deep, perhaps one that spent time in Mirkwood long ago, when it was still known as Greenwood the Great. Red hair was uncommon in most elves, and most didn't wander alone. She supposed it wouldn't have been difficult to recognize her if they remembered her well enough, which apparently they did. Traitors were unusual among elves.

She sat with her back facing the mountains, the almost empty plains before her. It was too open for her to feel comfortable closing her eyes and resting. Every few minutes she would turn and scan the area for any silent shapes preparing to pounce on her. Over their travels Runíla had become accustomed to Legolas always having her back and her having his. Now she realized that it was careless of her to put her life in the hands of someone else. Her laxness was only going to hurt her now.

With one knee pulled to her chest Runíla ran her hand over the rock and the clumps of grass that had managed to take hold there. She pressed the dirt into her palm and opened it again, watching it fall. The land had never seemed dead to her until that day. What was once thriving had been reduced to tiny pieces of rock and plants as if someone had diced and scattered them about the land. It no longer held any meaning for her. She would not wage a war for dirt over the ones she loved.

When she had nothing, she fought for Middle Earth. But what does one do when one has everything, and then nothing again?

Fueled by a sudden burst of bitter anger she flung a clump of dirt with as much force as she could. It was caught by the wind and floated lazily, some showering down onto Gelion's back. His ears simply twitched and she slumped back down onto the rock, ignoring the burn in her chest that threatened to burst out in a frustrated scream.

She sat there dully until the sky was pale blue with the promise of dawn, and she set off again.

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><p>Aragorn spent almost an hour with Legolas, the two walking in long, vagrant circles as Aragorn talked. He told Legolas everything he knew of Runíla, from her birth, to her father's execution and her family's exile, to seeking refuge with other elves until she stumbled upon Rivendell.<p>

Legolas did not pity her. She was the type of creature that could not be pitiable, not after she had pulled herself from such a wretched state. He had nothing but admiration for her, and regret for his father's actions.

"My father is not like that." He said quietly, turning to face the plains and overhanging mountains as if he hoped to see a familiar figure in the distance. "Not now, at least. By the time I was old enough to have an idea of my title he had stopped anything of the sort and would not have such things spoken of. He gets softer as the years go by, I think." His smile was dry, but it fell quickly. "What was their crime?"

"Treason." Aragorn answered heavily. "But she never said what for."

"She has the whole world again. Where will she go?" His eyes raked the terrain hungrily.

"You know her. I think you are able to guess that as well as I."

Legolas smiled. He knew. A laugh almost slipped by him then. _The Prince and the Exile_. He thought. _Soft or not, i__t's enough to send Ada into a fit_. And he fully planned to be there to see it.

Providing he could find her first.

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><p>The sun was dipping down on the second day when she noticed she was being followed.<p>

It was a single rider, still too far for her to distinguish any features. When she first noticed it she turned back excitedly, urging Gelion into a gallop. The sudden realization that it could have been Aranel, Lenwë, or Amras caused her to reign him back in after a few strides. Waiting seemed to be her best option. She could not run away when there was the chance that it could have been Legolas or even Aragorn. Also, she decided that if she could manage Aranel, Lenwë, and Amras at once, she could easily deal with one of them. Still, she kept a nonchalant hand close to the hilt of one of her daggers.

Gelion was more than happy to be left to graze as she waited anxiously. The rider, shrouded by a dark cloak, slowed to a trot and then a walk as they approached. They dismounted nimbly and Runíla caught a glimpse of the rider's face. She sighed, half with relief and half in disappointment.

"What on earth has brought you here?" She spared a small smile.

Elrond pushed back his hood. "A few things. You were one of them."

"How did you know where to find me?"

"I saw."

Runíla nodded tightly. "Everything?"

"Everything."

She chuckled hollowly. "So you foresaw me being dragged out on my arse. Lovely. Whatever you have to say to me I can promise you that no wise words will ease my mind."

"I am surprised you are that bothered by it." Elrond said, surprised.

"Of course I am bothered by it!" She snapped. Elrond looked at her sharply and she sighed. "My apologies." She muttered.

"Hitherto you were never troubled by what others thought of you." He looked at her curiously. "Why does it bring you such grief now? Aragorn knows, the people of Rohan would not have mattered to you, and -" Runíla flushed defiantly and looked him square in the eye.

"Ah." He said quietly. "I understand." He appeared to be vaguely amused.

"Understand what?"

"That is... certainly unexpected."

"_What was unexpected_?"

Elrond smiled knowingly and she huffed, frustrated. "I wish you would not look at me like that."

"Like what?" Elrond raised his eyebrows.

"Like I am naught but a child and I know nothing. Like I am not capable of taking a step without hurting myself. You have not looked down upon me like that since the day we met."

His smile turned weary. "Forgive me. You do not deserve it. I do not think you were a child, not by the time you stumbled onto my doorstep."

"No need to remind me." Her mouth twisted up into a thin smile. "As charming as the thought is, you cannot be here simply to 'console me'. My personal troubles is hardly cause for you to travel leagues."

"You underestimate your importance to me." His reply was sincere, and Runíla found her self a bit flustered. "I bear a gift for Estel, one that will hopefully alter the course of the battle." A simple shift in his stance caused his cloak to sway and she caught the flash of a silver sword pommel. After years of passing by its place of honor in Imladris she knew Narsil well, having been awestruck the first time she lay eyes on it. Some days she would make special detours simply to admire the sword of Elendil.

"I assume that is your final, drastic attempt to coax Aragorn into taking the throne?" She asked, impressed. "Clever. Clever enough that it may crack though his uncertainty."

"That is what we are hoping for."

"However, a single sword cannot decide the fate of a battle." Runíla scrutinized Elrond. "What is so pressing that he must receive it now, and from your hand specifically?"

"I promised Arwen I would see it done." He smiled distantly. "You know I would not break any oath to her."

"It was her idea?"

"She saw hope where I could not." He admitted.

"How is she?"

"Stubborn." Elrond's tone was bitter, but his eyes remained soft. "I tried to keep her close, but she is lost to me now."

Runíla smiled. She always knew that her friend's heart belonged to Aragorn, and would be even if they were separated. Arwen, however, was far too obstinate to allow that to happen. "You ought to be proud."

"Proud? She is throwing her life away."

"Is that what free will is called nowadays?"

Elrond sent Runíla what was as close to a glare as he could give her. "She will perish along with all that is green in this world if the war is not won." Any form of bitterness in his face turned to quiet desperation. Arwen had always been his favorite of his three children. Elladan and Elrohir were too adventurous, even when they had passed into adulthood, while Arwen was content to wander the gardens or browse the library, much to the relief of her father.

Runíla tried to keep things light, as she had not the faintest idea of what she could say to brighten his mood. "Your lack of faith is disappointing." She said wryly.

"Saruman emptied Isengard when he attacked Helm's Deep. The forces of Mordor are ten times as strong at least. Sauron will not empty Mordor. He knows that it will not take much to flatten Gondor. Minas Tirith lies close to the border of the Black Land. The Eye sees everything. He knows the citadel's weak points, which are many, and its strong points, which are few."

"Are you attempting to break it to me easily that we are all going to die?"

"It is not likely you will win."

"Cheers." She said dryly, a false smile stretched across her face.

Elrond gave her a bizarre, scrutinizing look. "You have made almost as many wisecracks in the past few minutes than you have in centuries." He paused. "I am beginning to think that I watched a very different person leave Imladris all those months ago."

Runíla shifted uneasily. She knew he was right, but she had been grappling with the idea for quite some time. "When do you plan to visit Aragorn?"

"Théoden will gather his army at Dunharrow. I plan to arrive there tomorrow evening, before they set off the next morning."

Anxious, she blurted out her next words without putting any thought into them. "When you see him, tell him to-" Come to think of it, she hadn't the slightest idea of what she was going to say. The temptation to spill out an explanation was almost irrepressible but there was nothing for her to say, she supposed. With a frown, she said, "Never mind."

Elrond easily discerned her uncertainty and attempted to steer them away from the subject. "The sword is the key to victory. Gondor's weakness coupled with the insurmountable strength of Mordor can only end in destruction. Rohan will do little to prevent it. There is, however, another ally that might be gained, one that would almost certainly lead us to triumph."

Runíla hung on his every word. "Who? I will go, if need be. It's hardly like I am needed elsewhere."

Elrond shook his head. "I appreciate your dedication, but it is a task that only Estel could accomplish. Dunharrow lies in the shadow of the Haunted Mountain. I would have him take the Paths of the Dead. He is the heir of Isildur, and therefore one who could rally the army of the dead. They have lingered here, dwelling in the mountain for far too long now. If they repay their debt and the battle is won they could have what they have long desired: peace. And we shall be a step closer to it as well."

"That may actually work." Runíla said approvingly. "The sword is proof of his lineage. Surely they cannot refuse that."

"The Paths will be treacherous. The King of the Dead, too, is cunning, but the reward would be greater than the risk."

Runíla smirked shrewdly. "You realize that he will not be alone, do you not?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know a few people who will certainly not let him depart companionless." She was positive that neither Gimli nor Legolas would allow him to go off on his own, especially if he tried to slip away unnoticed. And no matter how much he protested, they would be deaf to his pleas. Her smirk slipped from her face and she wished she was there to nag Aragorn with them.

"Perhaps that is for the better. Where will you go?"

"If I am swift enough, I will journey to Minas Tirith. Gandalf is there along with one of the halflings, the littlest one, Peregrin. I am sure another set of working hands will be received eagerly. That is, assuming I am not dragged out again." Her laugh was spiteful.

"That is good. You and Gandalf must keep Sauron's forces at bay until Aragorn and the others arrive. You must go now, then, if you are to make it there before Sauron's army." Elrond said quickly. "Every minute now is more precious than the last."

Runíla nodded and tugged Gelion's head up from the grass, pulling herself onto his back. "Good luck."

"And you." He nodded and smiled tensely. "Go!"

"Give Arwen my best!" She called back as she spurred Gelion forward.

Elrond raised a hand in farewell as she rode away until all he could see of her was red spark flying across the countryside.

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><p><em>And now this land<em>

_Means less and less to me without you breathing through its trees_

_At every turn_

_The water runs away from me and the halo disappears_

_I'm not whole when you're not here_

_So what if I was wrong?_

_What if I was wrong?_

_Oh, what if I was wrong?_

**Hold On To What You Believe - Mumford and Sons**

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><p>AN: I highly recommend the above song. Just saying.<p>

This chapter took a while before it was at a point where I was comfortable publishing it. Sorry for the wait.

Thanks a ton to everyone who's been reviewing! Lots of love to you guys!

I've just realized that this story is kind of nearing the end. Gee, this is weird. There's still a good amount of chapters left, though.

Just so you know, I'm also working on rewriting REALLY old chapters (old as balls) so if you see those come up, don't be surprised. It's funny, you can look through them and see how I've matured based on the Author's Notes. It's been quite a year.

Sorry to thrust my nostalgia on you guys.

Reviews are very welcome!


	48. Chapter 48

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 48**

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><p>Runíla never missed the things she left behind. She had left too many places, people, and things to even remember them all, and often times there was simply nothing worth remembering. Only when she left her makeshift funeral pyre for her mother and brother had she ever experienced that loss. After, she would depart from most places with little to no fond recollections of them, and her following journey would be as dull as all the ones before it.<p>

This one, however, was different.

For once she had something fond to dwell on. Her thoughts turned to memories which, for the first time, included the sound of laughter that was still a bit peculiar to her. Her backwards glances became less frequent as she rode. The expression on her face felt lighter somehow, no longer fixed in a perpetual frown. Not even the dark cloud that obscured the distant sky, clearly the work of Sauron, was able to put down her good spirits.

He was not lost to her, she decided. He was simply... not found. They would meet again soon, she was sure of that, and they would talk and laugh as they did before. It was undeniably refreshing to have a mind clear of doubts.

Before the thrill in her life was centered around the next orc pack she would be hunting, or the next battle that would be taking place. But now there was life in someone else, life that she had grown to savor. And, Runíla determined, if Sauron's downfall was going take all evil down with him, she wouldn't mind that person staying around.

She wouldn't mind that one bit.

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><p>Runíla coaxed Gelion over the final hill and halted him at its crest, patting his neck. Before her lay the city of Minas Tirith, sitting their almost patiently. Her eyes, however were not drawn south to the magnificent White City, nor the dark scar to the north that was the remains of Osgiliath, but to the east.<p>

It was as if an enormous fire had ravaged the distant landscape. A black smear stood out against the soft greens and browns, stretching so far that it seemed to reach the horizon. Sauron's army must have been at least three times that of Saruman, most likely more. Runíla watched the oncoming army, staggered. When the tiny points of spears became visible to her, she shook herself out of her daze and looked down at Gelion, smiling ruefully at the way the wind tugged at his shaggy mane. She was sorry to have brought this upon him. She felt as if she was closing the iron jaws of a trap on the leg of a rabbit, leaving it like a gift in the path of the hunter.

_They have no use for horses, neither as beasts of burden nor for meat. _She thought to herself. _At the very least, it will be quick. Brutal, most likely, but quick._

The thought wasn't as much of a consolation as she had hoped.

When they approached, it took quite a bit of shouting and perhaps just a few threats to persuade the two guards to open the gates for her. When they did she was met by a fully armed guard of six. Spears were pointed threateningly towards her as she dismounted.

She sighed. "That's not going to do any good, you know." She gestured to their weapons. "I am a friend of the White Wizard and pose no threat to your city. On my honor, I swear it."

_Not that there's much to swear by_. She thought.

"And who's going to prove that?" One asked skeptically.

"I am." Pippin nudged his way through the pack and stood proudly at Runíla's side. "You know I am a friend of the White Wizard, and seeing as he is currently busy organizing the defense of _your_ city, I will vouch for her."

One by one the guards slowly lowered their weapons. "Our apologies, my lady." Said one.

"I am Runíla. I have a name, you might as well use it. Is there any way my horse could be given food and water?" She asked, laying a hand on Gelion's neck. She ignored the dumbfounded looks aimed at her by the soldiers and the way they seemed to shrink at her name. "He has carried me from Edoras with very little rest."

"It will be taken care of."

Runíla nodded her thanks and patted Gelion's neck, whispering her gratitude in his ear. She was loath to hand the reins over, but he was lead away and the guards hurriedly returned to their posts. She turned to Pippin, hardly expecting him to rush to her and wrap his arms around her middle. The breath was momentarily knocked from her body, the pointed tip of his helmet digging into her stomach.

"It's wonderful to see you." He said.

"Pippin..." She said, strained.

"Yes?"

"Er, helmet."

"Oh, sorry." He stepped back, his face stretched into an eager grin. "Don't think that it's not lovely to see you, it is, but why have you come? Is Rohan coming? How's Merry and the others?" He spoke all in one breath.

"You would know just as well as I, Pippin." She answered. "I left not long after you, and it was hardly my choice."

"But we've been here for a few days already... How can you have left hours after us?" Pippin asked.

"Unfortunately Gelion is not the Lord of All Horses, but he fared extraordinarily well." She noticed the tunic he wore, embroidered with the White Tree, and the short sword that hung from his belt. "Why, you look awfully official."

"Oh, this old thing." Pippin smiled, trying to rest his hand casually on the hilt of his sword, but he put too much weight on it. The blade turned horizontally, nearly impaling a passing soldier. "Er, I became a servant of Lord Denethor."

"How on earth did that happen?"

He shrugged. "It was an accident."

Runíla's gaze turned to the courtyard. It was bustling with soldiers sharpening weapons and reinforcing barriers that would only be able to hold the enemy at bay for so long. If it was going to be a slaughter then they might as well delay it as long as they could.

"Pippin, where is Gandalf?"

"Oh, he's practically everywhere at once." Runíla kept Pippin close to her side in the crowd. "Denethor hasn't come out of his chambers. Gandalf has taken over the defense of the city." A white figure turned the corner before them, risen above the crown on horseback. "Oh! There he is!"

Gandalf turned his head when Runíla yelled his name. The crowd parted easily for him and he dismounted by their side.

"I hope that I may call this a pleasant surprise." He said.

"It depends. To shorten a long tale, the healer elves from Helm's Deep found out my 'criminal record'," Runíla smiled wryly. "and I fled when they tried to arrest me. But I was going to end up here one way or another."

Gandalf did not press the subject. "Well then you ought to make yourself useful. Take the defense of the front gates, I'll command the upper levels. I trust you'll know what's best."

Runíla nodded. "You, there!" She called out to a soldier who happened to be passing. "Is there a spare horse around?"

"Yes milady, would you like me to fetch one?"

"Quickly, if you please."

"I'll just be a moment." The young man bowed and rushed off at Runíla's nod.

Together, she and Gandalf surveyed the crowd.

"This is it?" Runíla asked quietly as another row of soldiers rushed by. They were a greater number than at Helm's Deep, but only just, and they were facing a much greater enemy. Gondor had been suffering for a long time and the city was low on many resources. It would be a shock if they had the resources to hold off the enemy for more than a few hours.

"Yes." Gandalf answered.

Runíla exhaled sharply and shrugged. "Well, I have seen worse."

"Truly?"

"No." She took the reins from the soldier who had reappeared, leading a powerful grey gelding. "Thank you." She said.

"A pleasure, milady." He was swept up by the crowd as soon as he turned.

Swinging herself up into the saddle, she drew one of her swords. "I will see you soon, then. If all goes well." She said quietly.

Gandalf mounted Shadowfax beside her. "Good luck." He smiled at her, his eyes wrinkled tiredly around the corners.

"And you."

Gandalf was soon out of their sight. Pippin lifted his head to look at Runíla skeptically. "Criminal record?"

She smiled. "It was an accident. And it was not even mine."

Runíla offered nothing else on the subject. Pippin smiled faithfully.

"I've got duties to attend to." He said. "See you soon?"

He looked up to her so full of hope that she could not bear to say what was realistic. "When it is over, perhaps you can show me around the city."

"I don't think I'm the best person for that. It took me an hour to find my way to my room last night." He answered sheepishly.

"In that case, I look forward to becoming hopelessly lost with you." She grinned. "And I suppose we ought to take Merry with us, too. Then we'll have at least one sensible head among us."

He beamed up at her. "See you around, then."

She nodded and he scampered off, and she steered the gelding to face the majority of the crowd. "Soldiers!" She yelled. "Attention!"

Every man stopped in his tracks, attempting to form any kind of organized formation. Anxious faces, some looking as if they were going to be sick, peered up at her.

"At the orders of Mithrandir I will be commanding the defense of the front gates and lower level. My name is Runíla. Any soldiers of higher rank should divide up troops by their job and take a group of men. You will report to me. I will oversee everything. Do not bother with names, there is no time now. To your stations, go."

There was just the slightest rustle in the crowd, as if a mouse had stirred the grass of a field. Not a single pair of eyes met hers. "You heard me, _go_." Frustration creeped into her voice.

"Beggin' your pardon ma'am," Came a diffident voice from the back. "but we know you're a legend and all, but why should we take orders from you? Why should we trust you?"

She searched for the voice's owner, but to no avail. Instead, she surveyed the group as a whole. "Well, you haven't got much of a damn choice now, do you?"

And one by one the men began to move again, slowly at first, but before long the hustle and bustle returned to normal. She was constantly on the move, overseeing all of the defenses.

The longer she looked about the city, the longer it's fall from glory was apparent. There were cracks running through once flawless, pale stone. She saw mothers, children, and elders dashing for cover, many in not much else but rags. It was chaos. But every once and a while she would see something, like a child fall only to be picked up and carried away by a stranger, or an old man letting a pregnant woman and her young child pass in front of him.

She saw pandemonium, and she saw goodness. She saw human nature. But most of all, she saw Boromir.

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><p>AN: So sorry this one took so long. I'm getting back into the fall swing of things and every time I sat down to try to write this every creative thought in my brain ran away. Also, I got really sick and behind on everything.<p>

I intended this to be a lot longer, but I feel bad not uploading in over a month. Sorry if I made you guys think that I abandoned this. I'm definitely still in it.

Reviews are much appreciated, thank you!


	49. Chapter 49

**A Flash of Red**

**Chapter 49**

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><p>For the first time in all of her long, vagrant years, Runíla had no time. As she ran in circles organizing ranks, battle plans, and supplies she felt her throat closing up in panic. She watched men tear themselves briefly from their ranks to give a last embrace to a passing loved one, and where she once would have called him back over she found that she no longer had the heart to tear them apart. At one point she spun about, envisioning all that surrounded her reduced to nothing more than a bare patch of dirt on the ground, a mass grave. <em>There was no time, <em>no time to say what she wished, no time to reassure those who were cowering in fear beside her, no time to guarantee that every soldier in armor would make it home to the arms of his wife, children, or mother, and no time to guarantee that those arms would not be cold and lifeless by the time he reached them.

_How could it have come to this? How could this have happened?_ Her thoughts ran wild. _After__ all those years killing to save others there was always going to be a death toll._

There was no certain feeling that she endured then, for that was all it was - feeling. But it was stifling, and it was enormous.

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><p>"Milady!" A young soldier mounted the steps of the parapet, knocking other men aside as he came. "Permission to open the gates, milady!"<p>

Runíla scrutinized him. "The point of this battle is to keep the enemy out, lad, not to invite them in for supper. Opening the gates is the last thing we want to do at a time like this."

A creak followed by a heavy grinding erupted from the front gates. The soldier swore. "They opened them already."

Runíla turned to demand that they be shut until a mangy horse wandered in, a soldier being towed pathetically by a single stirrup.

"Shut the gates!" She ordered, and joined the men flocking to the courtyard. Dismounting, she removed the soldier's helmet. Beneath it was a proud face with strong features, a younger variant of a face that she never thought she would look upon again. Someone freed his foot from the stirrup and he lay limply on the cobblestones.

"This man is a son of Denethor, is he not?" She asked.

"Indeed, milady. Lord Faramir, the younger brother of Boromir." A man answered.

She leaned over, checking for the slightest signs of breathing. "Find cloth and improvise a stretcher immediately. Send someone to warn your Houses of Healing; he needs to be treated as soon as possible." She tried to open his eyes, but they fluttered shut. "No, not again." Her mutter went unnoticed.

A few men stepped forth with a sheet lashed to two spears, one lifting Faramir's feet and Runíla his legs. They bore him away, and Runíla had the horrible realization of how Faramir's arms crossed on his chest resembled Boromir's as he was pulled over the Falls of Rauros.

A sudden heavy silence broke upon them, and men raised their heads. It seemed to Runíla then that she was among a company of young boys, as their faces had the looks of children startled by the shadow at the foot of their beds, their proud silver armor seeming to fit loosely on their shoulders. She mounted the steps back onto the parapet, taking them gradually though others followed.

The blackened clouds grew thicker, what little of the afternoon sun that pervaded through them dwindling. The enemy's mass stretched so far back that they looked as if they brushed the very foot of the mountains. War machines and towers peppered the ranks, which were not filled by orcs alone. The banners of the Variangs, men of Khand, and Haradrim, men of Harad were scattered in the crowd, along with the Easterlings, men of Rhûn.

Runíla's grip on the reins grew tighter, her nails digging into her palm. Looking out at Helm's Deep had felt like riding the waves of an impossibly dark, starry sea, but _this_ - this was like teetering on the edge of the universe. Despite it all, her eyes were drawn to the west awaiting the sound of trumpets and the thud of hoofbeats that would rattle the earth and shake a bit of courage back into her.

A man who she knew to be one of the higher in rank stepped forth, his face one of the few she had seen with a steadfast gaze and set brow, and perhaps the only one who had the pluck to acknowledge that there was an enormous army on their doorstep.

"Orders, milady?"

"All men to their positions." She said quietly. "We will not kill the enemy simply by staring at them."

"Are you going to make a battle speech, milady?" He asked.

"Why would I do that?" She frowned. She herself only ever needed the promise of a good fight to spur herself forwards.

"To rouse the men. We could all use it. Lord Faramir does a fair job of stirring them up, but even he has been wearied of late." He glanced bitterly at the row of men who held their weapons loosely, shoulders sagging under the weight of the fate that stared them in the face. "Look at them. They might as well lay down their weapons and stand there while the enemy makes pincushions out of them. They're pitiful. _We _are pitiful."

Runíla nodded curtly, urging the horse up the steps and onto the parapet, calling attention.

The men turned to her, and the sight of her unshakable silhouette, sword in hand, was enough to rouse the first bit of spirit in them. She spun her sword once and turned in a circle, and every man in the crowd felt her gaze. Her voice carried easily in the silence.

"Times of late have not been pleasant. Many say that Gondor's days of glory have fled, and that you who stand before me now are weaker sons of stronger men. You are kingless, scattered and fatigued! Your despair is useless, for I have seen with my own eyes a man who has fought and won his right to Elendil's name, and his coming is near. So today is the day that you live up to your fathers, and their fathers, and to the coming of your king. Today is the day that you live up to the armor that you bear! The glory days of your kingdom will come again with hard-won peace, so long as you realize that this darkness," She thrust her sword out defiantly to the enemy's army. "is not worth cowering from." She spoke as passionately as if she were trying to rise a man from his deathbed, her voice swelling with fervor.

"I knew one of your own, Boromir. He saw hope in his people, and was willing to walk through the Black Gates for each one of you. Learn from him and from his passing, for he would have wanted you to know this: the will of a single man can undo the workings of the most evil of magics that dares rear its head to face him. Today Gondor will make a new name for itself, and let Sauron fear the men of its land for as long as he tries to claim it!"

The horse pranced up to the very edge of the parapet and Runíla raised her blade as if daring the enemy to fire.

"This land," She said forcefully, "is a good land to die for. Now stand tall," The men straightened up, tall spears and keen-edged swords held in firmer, prouder grips. "And I ask you this: _what have you to fear in an honorable death?_"

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><p>Arms were trembling from the strain of holding a bowstring back, breaths held in that many wondered could be their last. Runíla waited to give the command to fire; she wanted to make sure that first blood, no matter what, would not be on their hands.<p>

But she did not expect to have to deliver the command to raise shields so soon. The enemy catapults slung their load into the air, Runíla screaming at the men to take cover while ducking behind a wall. She braced herself against a wall for the crunch of rock against stone and the quake of impact, but neither came. The missiles collided with dull thuds against shields and bodies, but none were wounded. Runíla uncovered her head and straightened up. At her feet lay a severed head still wearing a Gondorian helmet, its mouth wide open. A quick wave of nausea passed through her, and she rolled it as gently as possible to the side before mounting her horse again. The men she could see stood dumb in shock, unable to rip their eyes from the heads of their fallen comrades. Fathers, brothers, cousins, sons, and friends were among them, a few soldiers crying out in horror at a familiar face that had rained down upon them.

"Arise!" She shouted, raising her sword. "Load arrows and aim!" Many fumbled to draw their bows, but found their strength again in staring down the enemy. "Fire!" Their arrows followed the point of her sword and a good many fell, but it was hardly a significant number.

"Load arrows again!" She cantered across the parapet. "Catapults, prepare to fire!"

They loaded and at her command they swung free, boulders crushing into enemy lines with enormously satisfying crunches.

It was like this for hours, firing back and forth, Runíla doing her best to find the enemy's weak points and to strengthen theirs. But the enemy persisted, and rock can only withstand the waves for so long before it begins to erode.

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><p>AN: Nearing the end… gosh, this is weird.<p>

I wanted this to be longer originally but for time's sake I figured you guys deserved something. Sorry for the crappy updates lately, luckily my schedule is becoming a bit more manageable now, so expect more updates. If all goes well, I'll have the last six or seven chapters up pretty early in the new year (I don't know why I just said that, I have no idea when I'll be done with this. Oh well. Just keep you're eyes open).

Creds to Tolkien and Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh, and Phillipa Boyens. Writing battle speeches is _hard_.

Has anyone gotten any email alerts from this site recently? Mine hasn't been working for a while. I seriously hope they fix that because not having it is a pain in the ass.

Happy belated Thanksgiving to all you Canadians and my fellow Americans!

Please leave any comments in the review box!


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